Hanukkah Cockblockers

It’s your fault if you don’t make Hanukkah more festive than Christmas. I get it. Most likely Jesus himself who celebrated Hanukkah with his apostles, even invented Christmas to make the holiday season feel more festive. When the strongest drink offered was Manischewitz before eggnog was invented. Spinning Beastie Boys records while blaring Intergalactic planetary to honor the Aliens in helping his fellow Hebrews build the Great Pyramids wasn’t a thing yet. Can’t all the Jews, Muslims and Christians unite on the 1st night of Hanukkah on the premise behind Home Depot never being erected in the Israelites’ honor? Growing up, I’d push my dad to honor my mom’s Christian side after she converted. I say, “Dad, mom dumped Jesus to marry into your putzy DNA. The least you can do is let mom throw up a tree. Dad says, “The only time a Jew from the Bronx would get a Christmas Tree is if he planned to convert it into a tricked-out Treehouse and flip it for a profit.”

Finally, one year, my year my dad budges and allows my mom this pathetic, sorry excuse for a bonsai tree relegated to the side patio covered in cobwebs that got less touches than a St. James Bible at a bath house colony in Pronvincetown. But seriously, can’t you see Jesus recognizing the festive limitations of Hannukah after receiving one carved dreidel too many? Jesus says, “Thanks for the Dreidel, Judas. I’m glad that my carpentry session on dreidel building 101 at The 92 Street Y paid off so handsomely. But why don’t we make Channukah a more drawn-out celebration that’s ten times festive by celebrating my birthday for the entire month of December after Hannukah.”

Matthew says, “Yeah, but Jesus wouldn’t Hannukah then be considered a forgettable warm act, that gives you ball balls just thinking about it.  You were born my immaculate conception, right? Yet by the time your 4 brothers James, Joseph, Judas, and Simon were born, the magic was gone baby, baby gone.”

Jesus replies, “Yeah, but I had a vision in desert last night about a future comedian named Billy Crystal bemoaning in his autobiography, Baby Boomer Arrogance Never Dies, about how Jews bend over backwards to adopt Christmas traditions, so they don’t feel so old world clingy Jewy. Nobody cares anymore about the rocking band of Maccabees reclaiming the Great Temple of Solomon because they’re not the polytheistic whores like the rest. Taylor Swift is the number recording artists in the future, and she grew up on a Christmas Tree farm for Christ’s sake.” Hillary Hammer Time Cankles strikes again, Challah. Thank you very much.

Matthew asks, “What’s a Christmas Tree Jesus? “Jesus says, “A camouflaged cross, but it’s going to be tricked out in lights that run on electricity, which will outshine any burn a mile of minute candles on a Menorah.  Any Jewish record executive would jam a pinecone up their ass if they promised Taylor Swift more inclusiveness gayness spirit to be produced on her next Christmas album.

Now, I used to get very tense about the mention of Jesus, but not anymore, since my invention of a new tradition, Jesus Fridays, which allows me to break my Koshertarian diet of the past 2 years and counting. Understand, I’ve been following the Koshertarian Diet for 2 years now. Finally, I’ve allowed myself the inclusion of shellfish for a special occasion because who cares about eating soulless shellfish? Plus, Jesus, the original super Jew rocked the Pescatarian diet. So, if it’s good enough for Jesus, then it’s good enough for me. I also like the idea of acting less like an all-knowing exalted prick. And celebrating Jesus Fridays inspires me to connect with my fellow Gentile like a retired fireman who runs the best deli in Westchester in North White Plains. Outside my new office, after just resurrecting my IT Headhunter Writer career. Where I’m getting paid to creatively sell job opportunities for Software Engineers, digital designers, and Information Technology workers in general, whose job prospects have more legs than Lieutenant Dan. I like Jesus Fridays because it divorces me from perpetuating any messianic complex of my own, which screams, the original version of the Bible is better than second part that I’ve barely dabbled in for the most part. And I’m tired of being that old timer Gen X guy that just bemoans new age Simpsons episodes as woke filler compared to season 1 through 7 without even dabbling in the newer versions to make any ultra judgy informed decisions of my own. Like when I saw Juno, ages ago and got angry about how everyone was hailing the hardcore hilarity of it, when I saw Juno as nothing more than a poor girls’ Jeanne Garafalo. I wrote a blog about the movie being overhyped, yet I told myself afterwards, don’t be a critic, hack breath like the rest. It’s way better to originate, then merely pontificate. So, I wrote mini porn parody that I turned into my 1st screenplay, Juno Does Williamsburg, later named Brooklyn Blogger. Edgeless titles suck pinecone dick, Challah. Thank you very much.

At the same time, I’ve worn Jewish pride on my sleave for the past 5 years and change as host of the Do It All Dad Year Podcast, responsible for banging out comedy records such as Big Mouth Moses, Koshertarian Offensive, and the Pig-Headed Jew, Challah. Thank you very much. I’ve also written and published The Great American Jew Novel, which Diane Sullivan from the Midwest Book Review described as a “Hilarious exploration of New York Comedy and Culture.” Which proves that my material wasn’t too overtly Jewy pushy annoying for the Heartland’s tastes. And for the past 2 months, I’ve renamed my Do It All Dad Year Podcast, the Shabat Shalom Ramble, in honor of my dad accusing me of never being on point, despite him proclaiming 5 years ago before I launched my podcast, how nobody cares about my political opinions anyway, 45 thousand page views on my Do It All Dad Year blog later.

 Well, I haven’t read the news since Dominion Machines won. And I don’t see Kari Lake recruiting Linda Hamilton as her VP to take down the new Sky Net For good. Plus, how much more can we stomach talk of Alex Jones being bad Santa versus John Fetterman being a burnt out offering of the Democratic party who looks like the Good Will Grinch who showers in Bong Water. So, more than ever 3 million Jews in the US, according to Alexa, which is most likely an inflated claim, like Antifa still being nothing more than an idea in Patton Oswalt graphic novels, about a gang of wannabe Punisher vigilantes, in hoodies, could use some miraculous ways to modernize Hannukah and make it more festive than Christmas than Google ever would. Because I want other Jewish American Dads to derive extended Nachas from pronounced Jewish pride from their offspring when they proclaim to Daddy how they get butterflies in their stomach every day before each night of Hanukah begins, which was the opposite of my experience growing up. Getting a Pinball Machine one tear one year for Hannukah was unbelievable, despite being woken up every night prior to Hannukah because dad couldn’t resist the urge to play with it himself and break it in personally. Which made my younger brother and I believe that Aliens from Space Invaders were raining Gama Rays on top of our house eight nights prior to Hannukah because my dad was making his best Hannukah gift all about his own self-enrichment over ours. Still, my dad was raised an only child, so you can’t blame him for occupying his inner loneliness in his forties the week before Hanukah, because playing Dreidel by himself, gets played out faster than trying jerk off with your left in honor of shortest-lived New Year’s resolution yet. Which only leads to more played out blue ball’s devastation. So, here’s 8 ways to start making Hannukah more festive than Christmas. There are 14 million Jews worldwide. So, if this post goes viral, my Hannukah wish of 8 million butterflies can come true. And you can’t knock the miracle of mitzvah moves, Challah. Thank you very much.

  1. Understand, I haven’t collected paychecks in 8 whole years till this past December after resuming my IT Headhunter Career, where I can drop lines like, “Michael Kornbluth here, Recruiting Manager for Digital Unicorns USA. With a last name like Kornbluth, I specialize in mind control, in Kayne’s mind. So, when my wife tells me, “Don’t get carried away with getting the kids gifts this year for Hannukah.” I fire back with, “New tradition kids, when you get 3 Big Kahuna gifts on the 1st night of Hannukah. You each declare loud and proud, “Hannukah Hatrick, Challah” I add, “So, in this instance, go woke yourself babe, Gentile Grinch.” Challah. Thank you very much.
  2. 2nd way to make Hanukkah more festive is to start the tradition of Hannukah Halloween. And force your son to dress up like Van Halen with a pack of candy cigarettes in hand. Who cares if your mini air guitar appendage looks like an overdose at the limelight waiting to happen. Party Monster spirits live, Challah. Thank you very much.
  3. 3rd way to make Channukah more festive is to play Dreidel for Bitcoin versus more fake news Gelt. But explain the rules in humorous ways. For example, when the dreidel lands on Hey, you sing, “Hey, hey Paula, I want to marry you. Now give me half and full custody of the kids. I don’t want you coughing your natural immunity all our kids anymore, you anti-vaxer piece of shit.” Challah, thank you very much. Shin, means put it in, think Cardi B on a slow Tuesday. Nun, means nothing, goonish. Remember our routine at the Deli Matilda, when you could only put 2 words together? What did Tyson Chandler give the Knicks Daddy? And you’d say,” Bookpus, Boopku. And Gimmel means, give me everything because we control all the blockchain technology, Federal Reserve and all the banks in the North Pole too. Son says, “Samuel, don’t even think of stealing my bitcoin, or I’ll sell your pure blood on the Dark Web along with your vintage Cobra Commander with the blue mask and eyes holes in it that looks like Gung Ho’s bottom bitch in Robot Chicken remake of Pulp Fiction.” 8 million butterflies Challah, thank you very much.
  4. 4th way to make Hannukah more festive than Christmas is to play the Adam Sandler Channukah song on Vinyl backwards only to hear the latest and greatest chorus addition, “Linda Sarsour, not a fan.” Challah. Thank you very much.
  5. 5th way to make Hannukah more festive than Christmas is to Jewish guilt Software Engineers at Amazon into seriously questioning the state of their moral compass by sending them LinkedIn Inn-Mail messages through LinkedIn Recruiter that read, “Tell Bezos to make the Hebrew Hammer available on Amazon prime already despite Florida and antisemitism being so hot right now.” 8 million butterflies, Challah. Thank you very much.
  6. 6th way to make Hannukah more festive than Christmas is to sign your kids up for art classes that teach your kids how make masked morons made out of clay for fuck the CDC day. 8 million butterflies, Challah. Thank you very much.
  7. 7th way to make Hannukah more festive than Christmas, permit your kids the freedom to pile drive mommy’s white Guido, non-denominational tree while dressed as Mr. Wonderful for Channukah Halloween instead. 8 million butterflies, Challah. Thank you very much.
  8. 8th way to make Hannukah more festive than Christmas is to launch your Burning Mask Party already, for eight glorious nights while throwing some of mama’s Gnomes on top because they look like Santa’s burn out Trust Fund Babies on Social Security. What’s another burnout offering after making Goodwill Grinch Fetterman the new face of the Democratic Party. So, what difference does it make? 8 million butterflies, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Spoiled Dumb Son

Do I believe in Climate Change?

I believe in never warming up to my asshole father.

Especially, after my son asks.

How much do you like Papa?

I say.

He openly questions how were related.

How much would you like him then?

Son says.

Does that mean you want to be an asshole too?

You’re not making any sense again, Moron Jewish Son.

Maybe he questions why your brain is so dumb compared to John Fetterman.

At least John Fetterman had a stroke.

What’s your excuse?

You’re spoiled dumb or just a medium suck son?

Who prepares more mock meat sandwiches that your dad would never eat like your Impossible To Top Cheesesteak.

What’s Impossible Burger meat made from again moron Jewish son?

Pea protein and synthetic enuchry?

Just busting your balls, I mean Nutsy Russells Daddy.

I’m just trying to make you tough because your father never did.

I loved the Sloppy Second Joes you made yesterday with Impossible Burger meat.

That’s named after Hair Plugs Sniffer, who resides in the fake news White House set, right Daddy?

Now write some more jokes for your last comedy record special from home, Spoiled Stupid Son.

At this point, you couldn’t write rotten dumb jokes if you tried.

Spoiled Dumb Son gets spoiled with more blood-on-blood love.

Bon Jovi, New Jersey lives, the beautifully good one, Challah.

Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Sounds Of Dronish Cuntry

Kevin Durant is frustrated with Ben Simmons is the gayest sentence of all time.

Second, is Ben Simmons wants Kevin Durant to give a Ted Talk on how to block out the sound of cyberbullying.

Sounds of dronish cuntry live, Challah. Especially now that were officially under control of The Dominion Machines.

The Dominion Machines always win.

Unless Kari Lake recruits Linda Hamilton to run as her Vice President to take down the new Skynet for good.

After endless more stolen elections, I’m supposed to believe Dominion Machines aren’t wired for cheating.

Yeah, and John Fetterman doesn’t know what bong water tastes like.

Tell that to his hoodie from 86.

He’s like a mutant roach on life support.

Sounds of dronish cuntry, drone on, Challah.

Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

A Plus Alter Ego

Free Kathy Griffin.

Pass the barf bag, Trans Chucky Nation.

I wouldn’t fuck Trans Chucky with Chaz Bono’s Mr. Potato Head appendage.

Twitter is Brooke Shields.

Kathy Griffin wants to be her fawned over bestie so bad.

But Brooke Shields never gave Trans Chucky the time of day anyway.

Not even Bravo wants to be followed by Kathy Griffin on Twitter.

Andy Cohen bemoans.

Go back to the Luna Lounge and reenact the time Joan Rivers called you a no talent never was bitch to your face. At least Chelsea Handler knows how to tell a joke. Since she became a social justice warrior to downplay her tits sagging popularity. All you do Kathy is use your hands on stage like Archie in drag at a Trump rally on Fox News.

Andy Cohen adds.

Is Jill Biden our 1st scarecrow lady? Oh yeah, I went there, I’m a gay Jew, I got diplomatic immunity bitches. Suck on it and weep Chappelle and friends. But Elon Musk banning impersonations is gayer than Aaron Carter dying with Monkey Pox from Dr. Gnocchi’s man-made Aids monkey.

Elon Musk wants nothing to do with Zit Face Zuck.

So, he’s outlawing impersonations or anything creepily resembling his meta verse bust.

It’s also not hard to impersonate Elon Musk.

Just look deep in thought about defending Joe Rogan’s defense of joke integrity, skip tanning and leave bronzing to Trumpy Tits.

I love Elon Musk exerting technical power over d list hack celebrities.

For him, desktop support is kicking his feet up on a bust of Walt Disney’s head on top of his new ice tomb desk for Christmas.

Howard Stern fears a second Civil War if Hershall Walker wins.

You’d think core exercises on the Pelton App with Ashton Kutcher would make you less of a pussy Howard.

Placate to your Pedo Joe fan base left, so you’re not disinvited from any more 2 bite chicken parm dinners at Jimmy Kimmel’s house.

Attended an Owl demonstration at a local farm. Guide described pigeons as slow. I said, “So stool pigeons are the John Fetterman’s of the animal kingdom in hoodies.”

Later, we dissected an owl pellet for bones and found nothing. I say, “It’s like high school all over again babe, I’m bone free.”

My daughter just got a water bottle from Lulu Lemon and is ecstatic. She acts as if she was water bottle shamed at school prior. “

Mean Girl says, “Target water bottles are so deplorably depressing don’t you think? You’re better off just reusing the same bottle of Coconut water and refilling it with regular tap water instead”.

Attended a Bar Mitzvah in New Jersey. The female Rabbi was such a hack. Female Rabbi spent every 2 seconds talking about climate change and there not being an earth left. And how her side preserves while other one destroys. Canter interjects to point out how the climate activist Rabbi is from California. And I’m thinking, it shows. Surprised, she didn’t plug Nancy Pelosi’s jugs as taps of divinity, Hillary Hammer Time Cankles would love to go motorboating with.

Will be relaunching my IT staffing career soon under my alter ego, Joshua Kornbluth, which I have no problem with. I have enough egos to go around. A Plus Alter Egos Rule, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Masturbator Equalizer

“Intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.”

Salvador Dali

“Money equals middle finger power”, is what my dad always told me growing up in our quaint yet artistically loaded Comedy Grant House 50 minutes North of Manhattan within the bucolic, historically tiny village of Croton Falls. Now famous for being the birthplace of my dear dada’s famous catchphrase, “Can I get a holla for some Challah?”, on his Do It All Dad Year podcast that ultimately got him a recording label deal to produce comedy record 100 Too Tall Jew, on Blessed Records and the rest is comedy gold machine making history. Personally, I preferred the comedy record title, Birds Eye View Bitches, but Daddy thought that it was tad long winded even for Bob Dylan’s tastes. At the Montreal Comedy Festival Daddy got big laughs when he said, ‘”Sorry pops, but when you live in Arizona for a decade and counting and still haven’t visited the Grand Canyon, you’re a fake news hippy. I don’t care if your Bob Dylan station on Pandora suggest otherwise.”

Still, growing up Papa, my grandfather, nicknamed my daddy Waste of Height because my father is a 6’4 Jewish New Yorker, who’s only highlight when playing Varsity basketball senior year was scoring 10 points against an all-Japanese team, which isn’t hard when the opposing players thought the pick and roll, mean their choice of fish. Now, my dad was being billed by Rolling Stone as Killer Set Kornbluth, while Variety magazine hailed him as the new giant of late night after replacing Bill Maher with a new talk show called Seriously Clowning. So, at this point in his life, my dad had every right to look down on any soul sucker dream detractor who tried to make him feel like a delusional, crazy man narcissist for pursing A plus comedic glory with a middle finger power mansion located at the highest point in Bel Air next to Jerry’s Lewi’s old school crib. So, the shelf life behind papa’s degrading nickname, Waste of Height, in relation to his 1st born blossoming son, no thanks to his encouraged direction had gone sailing, Dean Martin, lives, Challah. Thank you very much.

But daddy is what you would call a late bloomer, who didn’t start tasting big deal success till his late forties, combining that with a sexless marriage, with a man who is far from straight, on top of his mom wanting him to sling other’s people’s garbage instead of his own A plus gemry jokes for a living one day, combined with in-laws who force fed Eucharist on his Jew blood tainted kids behind his back, combined with zero creative collaborators outside of his own children during his 5 year journey into the wilderness while kicking is decade long addiction to Adderall for good, resulted in creating a tsunami of resentment fueled rage that almost burnt out what love spreader light that existed left in my dear dada’s endlessly beautifying, beyond spiritualized projecting soul, before it was too late.  Because of that, Daddy did everything in his power to ensure I established moonbeam blast shot goals early as possible compared to his mother urging her “artist son”, to settle and shoot for shit by chucking the joke writing career all together and become a full-time garbage man like Magic Johnson’s father in Lansing, Michigan. Obviously, Magic Johnson dad’s is a stellar example of being a God loving, do it all dad done good. Still, Magic’s dad also slung other’s people’s trash, so his son wouldn’t have to, similar to Papa schlepping over the George Washington Bridge for 25 years only to get nickeled and dimed by the likes of Potomka Pickles while working as VP of Sales for a plastics and glass company in Union, New Jersey, otherwise known as the Swamp Thing State, so his 1st born wouldn’t have to follow in his steps and blaze a new trail of funny man innovation to derive prideful enrichment of some kind on his own.

But what really pissed off my dad was Papa resisting the notion that I had genius potential in me because his waste of height son was too much a mongoloid moron in his eyes to birth such a star powered, out of this world seedling capable of moving millions with my own powers of imagination, poetic lift and storytelling powered song. Daddy went to Ithaca College, which he derided as Cornell’s retarded next door neighbor. But he graduated from the distinguished Roy H. Park School of Communications, so he could suck down some bingers of extra strong Tompkin’s country outdoor weed and avoid stuttering every other 2 seconds. I loved the idea of going to Columbia growing up, yet Daddy viewed Manhattan as yesterday’s news and planted the idea of me attending Williams University in Massachusetts instead, because former owner of the Yankees George Steinbrenner, otherwise known as the Boss, was a famous alumnus and larger than life NY bred personalities like George Steinbrenner don’t get any big more time than that. Plus, Daddy loved the standup comedian Jim Norton who claimed Boston woman were the best to slay with. Also, at Uncle John’s wedding, AKA, Sir Snort a Lot, Daddy said, “God gave my younger brother more second shots at respectable redemption than what George Steinbrenner gave Steve Howe”, which got goonish at the time. Plus, I remember my dad driving us to the Manhattan to go skating at 30 Rock once for my birthday and he points out the new Yankee stadium off the Deegan and says, “Look Matilda, the new Yankee Stadium, the house that gentrification built.” I knew all about Reggie Jackson otherwise known as Mr. October, who hit not one but 3 first pitch baseball homers in 1979 to clinch the World Series for the Yankees at the original Yankee stadium, otherwise known as the house, that Ruth built. I also knew that Babe Ruth had the most homers during his day but had the most strike outs to, because there was nothing half ass about the Babe who went down swinging, coming through in the clutch with his back against the wall like the great Messier, Derek Jeter, Andy Petite, Eli Manning and Frank Sinatra all the way. Daddy imparted the lesson of why New Yorker’s have big time egos for a reason. When Daddy actually contemplated moving our family to Texas during year 2 of COVID, I said, “Daddy, how many great comedians are from Texas? Daddy said, “Bill Hicks and Sam Kinson.” I say, “Bill Hicks only made me laugh once. And Sam Kinson had one good comedy album from start to finish that was pure standup without the cheesy Wild Thing cover song on it, that’s it. Now, name me star comedians from New York? Daddy says “Rodney Dangerfield, Andrew Dice Clay, Lenny Bruce, Woody Allen, Mel Brooks, Greg Giraldo, Joan Rivers, George Carlin. Have I mentioned myself yet? Alright you’re right, Texan comedians suck compared to native New Yorkers, Joe Rogan included.”

For some time, I just wanted to be a singer and write my own songs, singing in pubs like Amy Winehouse without developing the heroin addition, yet my dad insisted I become an A Plus student and accept no other goal acceptable, so he could boast to his new comedy manager and rapper friends in South Africa, where his new record label was located, that his daughter went to Williams College, which rocks the old world King Solmon Royal purple. And my Do It All Dad thought the deep purple look exuded an edgy deep suave vibe similar to Jimmy Hendrix’s head tripping beanbag within the mixing room at Electric Lady Land studios in Manhattan. Daddy also had a black and white picture of famed writer director Bill Wilder in his old office where the famed writer, director of Ace In The Hole and Fortune’s Cookie, was marching in his office with his talking stick of sorts as his famed screenwriter partner Charles Brackett is on the writer’s  couch in letting him go long again, who is another Williams alum that helped co-write Sunset Blvd, which is good work if you can get it.  The other line Daddy would always pound into my cranium growing up was from Stephen Sondheim, which is, “God is in the details”, and the famous Broadway composer lyrist graduated from Williams to, so dumb, dumb burn outs didn’t even bother to apply. Reality is, I almost never got into Williams College nor ended up becoming the female Carl Jung of my day post COVID damage done after graduating Magna Cum Laude after triple majoring in English, Psychology and Philosophy, achieving the trifecta of liberal arts lunacy, I know. But believe it or not, my fate at William’s became sealed, not because of my college essay where I insist Carl Sagen was mothered by a starless atheist cunt who gave Booger face Behar on the View a whiff of semi-respectability in comparison for a change when she asked Don Lemon why he was nothing more than another race war inciting scumbag like Jussie Smollett minus the SAG card after she got red pilled by Russell Brand from turning her on to the Do It All Dad Year Podcast during bi-sexual pride appreciate month, I think. Actually, pursuing the harder, less shit laden path started by Daddy posting an ad on Craig’s List for a jerk buddy in search of more than a friend.  

“Why did I post an ad for a jerk buddy on Craig’s List? Because I thought it was healthy alternative to laughing at my own material on the couch after my daughter was tucked in, before breaking up with my wife off 11 years, again and again”, A 45-Year-Old divorced Comedian says to his chesty, red headed, Psychologist who was an English and Psychology major at Willaims herself. Mara Weitzman, the Psychologist from Williams says, “What if I jerk off your ego instead of some random stranger on Craig’s List, who would give Jim Norton the creeps?” Do It All Dad, now a divorced still struggling comedian, living on the couch of his Film Grip bud in Ridgefield, CT who wants to be the Bill Graham of Death Metal festivals in Upstate New York one day, says, “Does my health insurance cover that added expenditure on my behalf?  Psychologist Mara Weitzman says, “Remember, the time you talked about that 1st hand job you got from Carolyn Verdichio, in Cotswold Park, which you nicknamed Actionless Park in your bit at the Montreal Comedy about how you’re no gentle giant or else why would you insist on staying home to ignore your kid for the privilege of writing more jokes while choking your wife too hard financially, again and again? You described your 1st hand job as a throbbing extension of your brutishly rough personality, to the point where she almost skinned your pussy wrecker rearranger alive, while your jeans kicked wildly in the mud like a hardheaded hog in heat. Well, what if we reenact the moment right now? I played the steel guitar growing up in Plano Texas, so I’ve got stronger hands that most. Let me if see if I can yank out that rough side out of you for good. I’ll even put in a good word for your daughter at the Williams College during admissions season. Do It All Dad drops his pants and says, “I don’t feel like such a self-centric jerkoff anymore. Mara Weitzman, you’re the only masturbator equalizer for me. Now rip off that top and start jerking it like its 1999.  I’ll give those busty beauties a liberal load to boast about it when you pump up my long-term endowment potential to your fellow alum members after I blow you away with a blast of teen spirit of my own. Kurt Cobain lives, Challah. Mara screams in extreme anticipatory ecstasy, “Nirvana, come reign on me.”

Minutes later, Psychologist Mara Weitzman buttons up her top and puts her murky stained glasses back on and says, “See you next Tuesday Do It All Dad. Williams College will be lucky to have your daughter attend next fall, if she follows after your money blasting footsteps. Thank you, very much.”

Michael Kornbluth

Fired Up Freak

Wife says, “Do you want to see the new House of Dragon episode on HBO?”

I freak her out and say, “I can get fired up for albino black guys blowing each other if you can.”

She says, “Black guys can’t be albino.”

I said, “Who’s the racist homophobe now.”

Fired Up Freak flames on, Challah.

Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

The Triggered Tearjerker

“I can’t believe you didn’t cry at the end of Rudy!” Dr. Tearjerker says. Fred, a bald, bearded, stumpy forty-year-old recently remarried furniture salesman from Nyack, NY replies, “Was I supposed to cry? It’s just a movie, doc.”

            Dr. Tearjerker takes a deep breath to compose himself and says, “I think you’re incapable of experiencing joy for others.”

            Matt the furniture salesmen replies, “How you can say that from only talking with me now, after I paid you 300 dollars an hour to watch Rudy for the past two hours?”

            Dr. Tearjerker says, “My sports movie crying therapy bought me my house in Nantucket, a spacious 3-bedroom apartment on the Upper East Side on York, and a Victorian mansion in Mount Vernon, NY.

            That’s Denzel Washington’s childhood stomping ground, by the way, and I’m not a Long Island hack like yourself. That’s how I know, motherfucker.”

            Matt says, “Doc, take it easy. You sound like my ex-wife already, and we just met. Look, I’m only here because I just got remarried; yet my kid from my previous marriage is already causing a strain on our marital relationship.

            “All the melatonin gummies in the world can’t help my daughter sleep better at night, regardless of whether she thinks my new wife was pretty enough to replace Mommy or not.

            “My new wife hates how I can’t cry at the end of schmaltzy, happy movies like Rudy, too, and questions whether I really want to have a do-over baby with her, after all.”

            Doc says, “What the did movie Rudy make you think about?”

            Matt says, “I don’t know, doc. How Vince Vaughn let his looks go to shit? I was never too into Sean Austin Green’s melodramatic lisp, regardless of whether The Lord of The Rings franchise was huge for his career or not.

            “I thought about my Dad spending more time watching the Knicks stink up a joint, as a kid, than helping me develop a halfway decent hook shot or believable pump fake, in the post.

            “I thought of how my parents reserve their most emotive cheerleading efforts for my younger brother, instead.

            “I thought about the time my mom had me get her phone, which she left in my car, only to glance at a text for my younger brother to realize that she uses a nickname for me, Scoops, and for my younger brother, too.

            “If your mom regifted a nickname to younger brother, the mama’s boy, because he’s always been her idealized romantic partner based on her sloppy slow dance display at his wedding, wouldn’t you have issues crying at the end of Rudy, too?”          Dr. Tearjerker says, “How did that make you feel, to learn your mom uses the same nickname on your younger brother?

            Matt the furniture salesman says, “It made me feel like a used furniture salesman; a nobody; an unwanted futon with bedbug bite marks after college.

            “I’m open to more sports movie crying therapy, doc. I just want to start resenting my mother less than my wife.

            “Since I became a dad, I started morning prayer; yet I’m worried about God taking my good fortune away, since giving me a daughter, because I don’t respect thy mother’s opinion on how and what I should be doing with my life when she’s barleying around to help with my kid in the first place.”

              Dr. Tearjerker says, “Why do you resent your mother, besides her not being around to help with your daughter as much as you’d like?”

             Matt says, “Whether I visit her in Florida or she visits me back east, she’s always sulking whenever my daughter gives me another jump hug. This saddens her because our bond will never be as close, I guess.

            “Fuck radical empathy, Doc. My mom’s default sourpuss mode around my happiness-spewing daughter will always piss me off, more so than her misspelled texts inquiring about how I’m handling the weather back east after I regrettably text her another video of her granddaughter sledding on her Snow Screamer with hardcore funky smoothness from start to finish.

            “Either you’re excited about your firstborn raising a girl who won’t turn into the cum bucket-drenched girl from the Fallen Angel video, or not. 

            “I get it, Mom. You really wanted your favorite to have given you a grandchild, instead, but he was too busy snorting coke for four decades straight, developing a mysterious stomach irritation out of the blue, and yet somehow blames it on being lactose intolerant.

            “When all else fails, don’t look yourself to mirror or change your depraved ways. Just scapegoat fucking Lada Lakes. But I’m glad my mom decided to keep the crib for my daughter Matilda around their house in Florida to symbolize positive thinking and wish fulfillment at it’s finest.     “And my wife calls me the unstable one for yelling at my mom the last time she visited, after insisting I get a maid, which I can’t afford, or that I express my displeasure with my younger brother personally for not acknowledging my daughter’s 10-year-old birthday whatsoever.

            “Bet he’s got distracting demons to contend with; got it. All I know, Doc, is that my mother would never break into a constellation of canker sores over worrying on my behalf.”

            Doc says, “Why do you resent your new wife? Didn’t you just get married?”

             Matt says, “I love her, Doc, but it’s not my role to criticize my daughter so soon. Four years down the road, sure, but my daughter will be out of the house by then.

            “So, if she chooses to live like a slob then, it’s her business, not mine. And no, I don’t want to get my daughter tested for ADD. I talk this much off Adderall, Doc. I actually stopped taking Adderall during my first marriage to focus less on how annoying my wife could be. It didn’t make a difference, really.”

            Doc says, “Looks like our time is up.”

            Matt replies, “So, what movie magic do you have planned for me next week, Doc? Remember The Titans, or Hoosiers, perhaps?”

            Doc says, “So you feel nothing when Dennis Hopper fills in for Gene Hackman as the basketball coach after being found in his home, waddling in drunken squalor, before his son locks his beamish, proud, piercing eyes into his pa’s soul and says, “I’m proud of you, Dad”?

            Matt replies, “I can’t believe you get paid for this shit.”

            Doc yells, “Get out of my office. You’re banned permanently, you deplorable piece of shit.”

            Dr. Tearjerker ended up in an insane asylum because his revolutionary sports movie crying therapy didn’t work on the furniture salesman from Nyack. This made him feel like a fluke and another vastly depreciated, average nobody, too, despite his own mother never reusing his nickname on his younger brother to project the aura of equally distributed, encouraged love.

            Now Dr. Tearjerker sports a permanent straightjacket after trying to kill himself with a basketball pump needle once, during outdoor play. He spends all his days, now, in a white padded room, running suicide sprints with a look of extreme determination on his face and chanting, with increasing force, “Rudy, Rudy, Rudy,” only to add, “I still shed tears of joy for you, Rudy. And if I’m deemed crazy by New York State standards for deriving happiness from other’s people’s success through the silver screen or not, I don’t care. At least I know that I’m not among the walking dead, yet.

            “Rudy, Rudy, Rudy.”  

Michael Kornbluth

Exit Interview Day

Int. Bedroom-Day

Do It All Dad

Matilda, what do angels taste like according to Hillary Hammertime Cankles?

Blood Orange Mimosas or Sponge Cake?

Matilda

Blood Orange Mimosas.

Do It All Dad

What’s the big payoff from following the Koshertarian Diet?

Matilda

Growing closer to God and getting a dynamite book out of it.

Do It All Dad

What does the Koshertarian Diet mean to you?

Matilda

Being serious about pleasing God and following some of his laws for a change.

Do It All Dad

Would you be happier if Daddy became a part-time Pescatarian Comedian instead?

Matilda

Yes, because meat is murder and most meat is meh, unless it’s your Kosher chicken in your Walnut, Pecan pesto.

Do It All Dad

Would you ever take your girlfriends out to a Kosher style deli like Epstein’s when you get older?

Matilda

We’d rather go out for Sushi.

Do It All Dad

Why do think the top literary agent in Israel told me he didn’t see a market for my book, The Koshertarian Comedians, despite praising the wildly funny writing inside?

Matilda

He was lying, it’s too good for him Daddy. It’s unique because of the rare point of view expressed inside. I mean who else compares getting laughs and yummy dances to getting closer to God and your 3 children in the same breath?

Do It All Dad

I’ve raised a hot pitch monster folks. No wonder why you played by the self-appointed 9 year agent in The Great American Jew Novel.

Matilda

I’m 11 now Daddy.

Do It All Dad

I’m aware, resist this child services. What celebrity would you take out for lunch?

Matilda

Martha Stewart, because she has good taste and could tell me the best stuff to order.

Do It All Dad

What special ingredients make a great cook?

Matilda

Love and variety, making things with love and showcasing plenty of a variety like you do in the kitchen and with your all your comedy records Daddy, even less the hardcore hilarious ones.

Do It All Dad

Does eating fried shrimp from Stew Leonard’s make your heart less pure?

Matilda

No, kids shouldn’t be tortured and denied happiness on tap like that.

Do It All Dad

Do you consider cooking a major time suck not worth pursuing?

Matilda

No, I consider it a form of creativity that makes you less dependent.

Do It All Dad

Do Shrimps have souls? Would a shrimp sell it’s a soul to play the guitar like Paul Simon?

Matilda

I don’t know who Paul Simon is. Is he the guitar player for White Lion? But no, I don’t think shrimp have souls like the adorable goat we saw at Stew Leanord’s munching on grass this weekend Daddy.

Do It All Dad

The guitar player for White Lion is Vito Bratta. He inspired my flash fiction story, When the Shredder Frets, about a reclusive hair metal guitar God who used to kiss his guitar more than his ex-wife, forget it. What do your friends at school know about the Koshertarian Diet?

Matilda

Pork is off the list, or should I say a no-go zone in Germany these days Daddy?

Do It All Dad

I’ll write the jokes thanks.

Do It All Dad

Do I resist becoming a part time pescatarian comedian after being a full-time Koshertarian comedian out of fear of being labeled a poser?

Matilda

Yes, but you shouldn’t feel like a poser Daddy. Consider it the second act in your comedic evolution Daddy. And God wants us to be happy, assuming we refrain from eating Kosher slaughtered animals unless you’re feeling completely famished. God wants us to be happy, remember?

Do It All Dad

What sacrificial lamb, meaning, what’s one big thing you’d sacrifice eating by ditching the traditional Koshertarian diet for the Pescatarian one?

Matilda

Brownies, for you, it should be the other kind, Daddy. I’ve heard the jokes on your comedy records. Ziggy Marely, your dad had 7 kids, but I thought ganja drained your ball sack dry. Ziggy says, “Fake news-man.”

Do It All Dad

Are you saying that holiest, most idealized diet is the Pescatarian one after Daddy’s ate strictly Kosher for the past 2 years while writing my book?

Matilda

Yes Daddy, the Pescatarian Diet is the sweet spot in the middle.

Do It All Dad

Looks like we just conducted our exit interview from the Koshertarian diet then.

Matilda

Your blockbuster sequel to The Koshertarian Comedians, will be the The Pescatarian Comedians. Who could resist?

Do It All Dad

Even Hillary can get on board. But I don’t think it’s Kosher to have your spirit cooking dinners and your sponge cake too. Pescatarian Comedians live for now, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

The Masked Boomer Deadhead

I don’t like older Deadheads because they got to experience free flowing love with busty Italian girls in the parking lot of Giants Stadium before Magic made HIV disappear. I had to settle for either dry humping induced zipper burn in college or feel nothing condom sex, which is the equivalent of having to exchange silky smooth lining for plastic covered seats. A guy knows when a condom breaks because he immediately starts to coo, “Wee, wee, sex is fun again.”

I especially don’t like older Deadheads wearing Grateful Dead masks at the grocery store because they’re not dropping acid in those dancing bear masks for 3 hour drum solos on ACID at MSG Square to see Grateful Dead and Friends. I don’t care how much masked deadhead woman bat their eyes to John Mayer with a mask on looking like a longhaired Long Ranger in Tie-Dye in disguise.

Imagine a Masked Deadheads who suffers from anxiety, being slipped ACID by a new age Merry Prankster at MSG, requiring you to wear the mask at all times, except between more puffs of increasingly necessary calming green. Once the double of dose of ACID kicks in, the Masked Deadhead says, “Fuck CDC guidelines. If I could survive Altamont and the Hell’s Angel’s nearly beating my skull into the middle earth, I can handle an itchy esophagus no problem. Besides, I’ve been spoking weed out of out a metal bat at Dead Shows for five decades straight and my lungs feel great, holla, thank you very much. “

It’s hard to remain calm when I see a Baby Boomer in a Grateful Dead mask today. They never had to greet their kids off the bus wearing masks, looking like Michael Jackson’s adopted ones on holiday in Bahrain. All these Masked Deadheads did was use their cushy positions in the media, government and academia to push lawless policies, which turned LA and San Francisco and now Manhattan into overrated, overpriced ten cities sponsored by REI.

Masked Deadheads are fake news hippies like my retired father who hasn’t visited the Grand Canyon in 9 years since retiring to Scottsdale, Arizona, to take up jerking off to the Weather Channel every winter and playing tennis with Dr. Ken, who claims my father’s forehand has never been stronger.

Took my daughter to her 1st Dead show and she says, “Daddy, why are your eyes red? I said, “The THC content in these edibles have unmasked my pothead eyes.”

My daughter’s 1st Dead Show was days after her 2nd Birthday. She points at dinged up looking hippie sucking down a nitrous balloon and inquires, “Birthday”? I say, “No Matilda, Burnout Day.”

It’s hard to plan for kids, when you’re pothead who forgets to ask your girlfriend if she’s on the pill. Although when my wife told me about being pregnant with our 1st child Matilda, my response in my mind was. First, stress how it’s her decision but then push for the abortion and don’t be a pussy about it. Still, at the time it was impossible for me to write off my daughter in the making as a zombie zygote whose spirit could be brought back from the dead by getting my girlfriend now wife, accidently pregnant again in a NY Minute again, no problem. The moment my wife announced she was pregnant with our 1st of 3 kids, I couldn’t be blase about pushing the Unplanned Parenthood, family man, extermination plan.

Do you think Michael Corleone would push Kay to get an abortion if the ultra sound revealed their kid in the making was a gender fluid hermaphrodite? Kay says, “It’s a hermaphrodite Michael. I know you really wanted a boy to carry on your scared Sicilian seed. I’ll just book a contract hit with Planned Parenthood tomorrow. Don’t bother sending a car for me. I’ve seen how that movie ends before. You had no problem ordering your goons to blow up helpless Fredo, so stop acting like giving me the green light to take out a hit on your own flesh and blood doesn’t sit well with your soul anymore. Besides, how does a hermaphrodite as the head of the five families even work? Do all the other thuggish killers in Armani come into The Gender Fluid Godfather’s office to kiss her cock ring or just suck off her latest wallpaper collections of gender fluid pink zit recipes in Pinterest??

Vermont must change their state logo from the Green State to CBD Oil only. Bernie Sanders couldn’t even make Vermont great for potheads on vacation.

I drop weed edibles about an hour before I tuck my kids in to avoid my daughter’s super hard questions on it before they kick in. Once, edibles kicked in earlier than usual and my daughter says, “Daddy, if God created the universe, then who created God?” I say, God went back in time in a Time Machine, made by Elon Musk.” She replies, “Real convincing Daddy. Thanks for making an atheist at 4.”

Did you know 4/20, Earth Day for Potheads because it’s an herb that grew wild around King Solomon’s grave, is also Hitler’s birthday? Total bummer right man? I haven’t been this let down since I learned how Sly Stallone snuck Mel Gibson into Expendables 3.

And this is my impersonation of Ziggy Marely being interviewed by High Times magazine? Reporter says, “Ziggy, your dad had a dozen kids. Isn’t excessive ganga use supposed to drain your life blaster and ball sack dry? Ziggy Marely says, “Fake News man.”



I really don’t like Baby Boomers wearing Grateful Dead masks because they’re acting like this freedom killing reign of COVID terror is campy fun like touring with the Dead during summers past. I only wish I could dance in the grass to the Shakedown Street again throughout the Bethel Woods great sprawling lawn without any mask mandates anymore to kickstart the 1st of many burning mask parties this summer, able to sing with final chapter closed authority, “What a long, evil revealing trip, it’s been.”

Last, I’m sick of hearing certain Baby Boomers proclaim, “We’re all mad.” Unless, you were drafted to fight in Vietnam, I don’t give a shit about your alleged discomfort post COVID asshole. Generation X, that being my generation, had to endure the nagging, adolescent of fear of contracting HIV, multiple recessions, 9/11, the media’s perpetual white washing of the Jew hating squad and our kids being forced to wear masks in school as if we’re living in some sick, twisted version of Pink Floyd The Wall, except this time only the CDC, Fuck Face Fauci and China get final cut. Jew loving Roger Waters lives, thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Follow The Vaccine Body Count

If Obama could ball. Then, why did he ride the bench at an all Asian private school in Hawaii?

I wanted to marry my wife in her native homeland of Australia. Mom says, “Australia is a long flight from New York. And your father doesn’t love you that much.”

Later, I console my wife and say, “Assuming we have a boy one day, we can hire Crocodile Dundee for the circumcision. Just so we can hear a room full of Jews say, “Now that’s a knife. You can chop it all off with that thing.”

US troops are being denied earned leave without getting their vaccination 1st. On the upside, less Navy servicemen will get pricked by the barebacking ghost of Allen Ginsburg during Fleet Week. Holla, thank you very much.



The Indian Health Ambassador and former comedian gets his COVID vaccine live on TV to show everyone how safe it is and dies 2 days later. I hope the former comic is reincarnated as anal warts inside Dr. Fauci’s hell hole colon.

The Indian comedian should’ve stuck to killing with arranged marriage material instead. Former Indian comedian says, “It’s easier to get your wife into anal if you’re pushed into marrying one caste beneath you. Holla, thank you very much.”

Dr. Cole says we’ve seen more deaths from the COVID shot than all vaccines in the last 20 years combined, adding, “Morally just Wuhan Lab assistants have longer shelf lives after interview spots with Tucker Carlson.”

Dr. Cole, another outspoken critic about the ineffective practice of lockdowns also says since the dawn of man, “We’ve never quarantined the well.” Adding, “Look how well Dave Chapelle turned out after his walkabout sabbatical in Africa, using only bush dirt weed to fight off killer Mosquitos the size of Aids quilt blankets.”

Vaccinated people still wearing a mask is like Cookie forcing Magic to wear a rubber whenever they snuggle up to The Inside Guys on TNT.

The Sopranos finale would be better if Meadow got to play the prosecutor in the George Floyd case and in her closing statement state, “How did all lives matter become the new n word?” Holla, thank you very much.”

2 female college students got kicked out of Amherst College for not wearing a mask from a photograph taken on campus. When did liberal art colleges become no go zone areas for Muslim housewife property during Ramadan?

Bartender looks at my wife’s credit card during our sweaty sex period before we got married and says, “Duffy, like me.” I reply, “Why don’t you 2 open a bar together and live happily after?” Holla, thank you very much. 

I’m so tired of hearing the NY is coming back pitch. These days, Jews feel less welcome in New York City than critical BLM theories.

Michelle Obama says, “You want to hang out with us. Get your vaccine, gardeners from Honduras excluded. Just don’t Instagram any of Obama’s pot plants Pancho, got it. He likes to puff with Malia and her friends during summer break to feel like a fake news bi-racial Bob Marley.”

Michael Kornbluth