Pause Daddy

“Welcome to the Do It All Dad Year Podcast, What Gen X Dads understand, Dad friendly entertainment for you and me. I’m your host Michael Kornbluth. 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 been a Stay-At-Home Comedian on and off for a decade now, although my dad is more old school and prefers expression Sheltered Bum. Whenever, I’m out with my 3 kids without mommy, I hear, “You’ve got your hands full.” I’ll say, “If any of my books ever become best sellers and my wife agrees to open marriage with Susan Sarandon, then, my hands will be full.” I stopped smoking weed until I thought my daughter was asleep already because I felt like a moron answering her super deep questions on it the sticky icky stuff after I thought she was asleep already. She’d ask, “Daddy, if God created the universe, then who created God? “I said, God went back in time in a Time Machine made by Elon Musk.” Daughter says “Real convincing Dad. Thanks for making me an atheist at 4.”

Michael Kornbluth, host of the Do It All Dad Year Podcast and proud father of the 3 most hilariously, sweet, snuggle shine bundles of sunshine known to mankind adds, “Today, on the Do It All Dad Year Podcast, we have a guest, which is a rare occasion since the launch of my podcast 4 years ago, in my pursuit to become the paid star voice behind remote work revolution, before China could hog up all the credit for forcing Corporate America to adjust to a remote work way of life to please our commie controlled corporate masters till our last dying breath. During my pilot episode, I interviewed a UX Designer who worked for Apple. I know you’re bored out of your mind already, unless he was the guy Steve Job pumped for the casual Grandma jean look for all it was worth. My standup performer instinct constantly interjected, the moment I sensed my guest lose the audience, which happened automatically, whenever I allowed him drone out another colorless, brain reaching a screeching halt reply, so I swore off every doing another interview on the Do It All Dad Year Podcast ever again, especially knowing Do It All Dads who want to work from home based on free will alone, in the impassioned pursuit to make their kids the center of the universe instead of the reverse, don’t grow on freaking Bonsai trees either. But I decided to make an exception for our guest Richard Lankfear from Plano, Texas, who is a retired Drug Counselor and author of a new book, called, Addiction, a mind-expanding warning drug abuse symptoms guide, so parents can see if their kids are a frantic, manifestation of their crazy hick degenerate gene, with zero concept of moderation in real time or not. Raising drug free children is important to me because being a druggy dependent is the opposite of feeling free. Cream lives; holla thank you very much. Plus, how can our kids get excited about the pursuit of happiness at home or at school if getting high off their loved ones or from a job well done isn’t enough at least until their mid-twenties? Richard enacts tremendous good from his lifetime service as a Drug Counselor by making a drug abuse warning guide for parents today unaware of what constitutes drug forming behavior under their alleged, emotionally present watch. The chilling, sobering stats in the book such as fentanyl being 100 times more powerful than morphine, speak for themselves and need to be illuminated with unflinching detail knowing either blissful ignorance, dismissive sugarcoating or mere whitewashing of the opioid epidemic throughout the US as being a mere “white trash ” problem, can become the worst fatal mistake a parent today can make, especially knowing how Chinese made fentanyl snuck in through our Mexican border to NPR, has killed more crackers in this country than Lena Dunham kicking it with Taylor Swift on Instagram. The recurring theme in Richard’s books, The Addicted Child, is parents becoming reactive fire fighters, multiple rehab stints later, versus the ideal of becoming proactive troubleshooters before such residual damage has been done, which some families never truly recover from. This book will help more families spot drug habit forming warning signs by offering actionable insight to prevent their kids from facing such a life crippling fate. More importantly, the vast breakdown of all types of drug abuse included in the book, will give parents the confidence and sense of surging urgency to have the drugs will kill your braincells talk with their kids on their still developing minds, before those rapidly deepening drug forming habits become that much harder to break. Richard on the side of the Skype podcast interview is red and flustered in the face, flabbergasted over how Do It All Dad Year Podcast, has made zero effort to give his guest a smidgen of breathing room to promote his book 7 minutes into the broadcast already. If only had Richard knew of Do It All Dad’s code work trick, his 3 kids used whenever he went on one of his impassioned rants in one seamless endless breath, with zero auditory relief in sight as his kids long forgot what cool interesting idea, or question to express already, which was this, “Pause Daddy”, as they pointed an imaginary remote directly at him and say, “Pause Daddy”, with warm hearted smiled stretchy cheer because it was funny and it actually shut their dad the fuck up for change on Adderall or off.  

Stay At Home Comedian rolls on adding, “Let’s focus on our guest now Richard, who didn’t spend any quality time emoting about the all-star book review I just read for you on Amazon about his book The Addicted Child, which was more than generous considering what a snooze the book was as a whole. So, Richard, I just read another book by Lou Gramm, the former leader signer howler legend from Foreigner, known for co-writing and belting out endless classic rock staple hits such as Juke Box Hero, Double Vision, Long, Long, Long Way From Home, being my personal favorites among the pack. In his highly readable book in comparison to your one, he talks about getting sober and the growing frustration of not even being able to partake in lighting a doobie after killing at freaking Solider Field on the tour party bus soon afterwards, when everybody else from the band now in their early forties still is. Like the roadie guy says in the movie Rockstar with Mark Wahlberg, “Don’t be half ass about it, live out the Rock Star dream for those who can’t or something close to that.  Also, there’s a standup comedian whose no longer with us, the late great, Greg Geraldo, who said drug use should be encouraged when in your forties more so than your twenties especially when you learn during a parent teacher conference, “That your son is a half a tard.” So, my question for Richard, is “What’s an acceptable form of addiction in your book?” “Richard says, I wish I had stage light to shine on you, 1000 run on sentences ago.”  Do It All Dad Year Podcast host fires back with, “So, all the Irish thugs who used to beat up nice Jewish kids in the Bronx, calling them Christ Killers blah, blah.  Are they what you’d call a special kid of drunk prick later in life or do you think the concept of a so called happy drunk, doesn’t apply to any Irish alcoholics, because their rosy noses give off the impression, they’re really just more superficial cheery on the surface than the rest? And if the Irish are the best drunk poets, then whatever happened from the Irish Beastie Boys in the Jump Around Video? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t thinking being a drunk prick is a strictly an Irish disease. For me, I think a fellow member of my tribe, Michel Rappaport, still sounds like he’s auditioning for the role of Wigger Number 3 asshole In the Jump Around Video.  Richard says, “Are you going to ask any of the questions I gave you?” Do It All Dad Year Podcast Host Michael replies, “Why are parents so afraid to have honest conversations about drugs through their record collections with their kids Richard? What makes these parents so apprehensive to point out the dangers of doing shitty Chinese made coke, with Hunter Biden, only hearing last call from the bathroom stall? Do you feel sketchy degenerate behavior is born, enabled, or all the above? In the movie, Requiem, for a Dream, Jared Leto is missing a freaking arm at the end, which is a powerful cautionary message to nail home on par with reading your kids Allen Ginsburg’s Howl next time, they claim to not scary easily, describing all the beautiful angels of light’s mind, ravaged by drugs, reducing to eating stray cats throughout the streets of San Francisco. Why didn’t you share such hardcore scare tactics tips in your book, for parents to use on their kids, so they wouldn’t have to spend a mini fortune, and take out a new home equity loan on the house to afford your overrated counseling services? “

Now, all of Michael’s 3 kids come bursting in the room to give their Dear Dada a hug after coming back from school, anxious to tell him about their day. In unison, they all point an imaginary remote at their Stay-At-Home Comedian Dad and say, “Pause Daddy.” Richard throws up his hands in defeated disgust on the Skype Window screen and yells, “That’s it Pause Daddy, is the magic word to shut this loudmouth, obnoxious Jew up already.” Stay At Home Comedian Dad replies, “When your opinions are deemed worthy enough to interrupt my killer flow, I’ll let you know, jerkoff. Never forget, 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.”

The End

Michael Kornbluth

Curious About George

There’s talk about canceling Curious George now because of racial associations embedded in the story, George Avoids Aids, about a white guy in the yellow 10-gallon hat who saves an African Monkey from getting AIDS from the CIA, after making a bet with the CEO of Planned Parenthood to see who could exterminate more hoop dreams before they got off the ground.

Cancel Curious George, yet who on the left would take offense to a remake titled Bi-Curious George? Targeted toward sexually confused hipster spawn reared on Lou Reed records.

The husband wife team who created Curious George were a Jewish couple who fled Germany on a self-made bike. But some miserable Twitter Twat dares to accuse these authors of peddling picture books for white supremacists on 4chan today? Curious George Gets A Job doesn’t feed into the narrative of systematic racism. So that’s a solid reason to go ape shit online and shit over our kids age of innocence, as if wearing masks at school like they’re on vacation with Michael Jackson in Bahrain isn’t depressingly dreary with no end in sight already.

Curious George flies a kite isn’t a racist. You’d think the title was Jamal’s older brother is high on shitty commercial weed in the project hallways before the school bus arrives in the am again.

Curious George learns the alphabet in Ebonics was never written, although I think Nas could reinvent himself as child book author and give it a shot.

Curious George goes to the Pizza Party, hosted by Danny Aiello, in Do The Right Thing, when he starts dropping N bombs because Radio Rahim played Public Enemy too loud for his taste out of the freaking blue, despite most Italians being proud members of the loud mouthed bleacher creatures throwing batteries at opposing players in right field in the old Yankee Stadium before the new one was built, otherwise known as the House That Gentrification Built.

Curious George goes to the hospital from drive by gun shot wounds for wearing his customary red top while cruising through south central to pick up some discount rims for the man in the yellow brimmed pimp hat, for an upcoming 70’s fly guy, Pimp costume party for Halloween was never published either, unless Snoop Dog retells the story to his kids that way, because that’s how the sticky icky king of green puff la rap rolls.

It’s Curious George Goes To The Baseball Game, not Curious George dominates the baseball game, smacks 3 homers in the World Series, doing his best Mr. October impersonation, while Pete Rose places a bet on how many N bombs Marge Schott dropped in rapid succession after uppity, erudite, hyper articulate, clutch hitting Reggie went yard for his 3rd.

Curious George Goes To The Movies and is louder than Busta Rhymes at a midnight showing of Higher Learning would make a funny kid picture book though.

Curious George Visits the Dentist and samples some Bill Cosby material should be a non-divisive topic embraced by all, stating, “Female Dragon flies act dead, to avoid sexual assault from male dragon flies. Bill Cosby victims call this wishful thinking.”

Michael Kornbluth

The Reference Check Girl

Once upon a time there was a high energy, constantly red in the face, yet easily excitable IT agency recruiter in his early twenties from Long Island, Patrick Dublin, who worked for a small staffing agency above Madison Square Garden called Unicorn Staffers. Unicorn Staffers specialized in recruiting and placing Unicorn UX Designers, who also did the nitty gritty, back and front-end coding, who made billion-dollar apps and various new age tech startups come to life, blessed with visionary founders brilliant enough to avoid sexual harassment charges at work, by creating in-office innovations such as designing a panic free, jerk off safe space bathroom. So, security never had to escort you from the building, legs first from the bathroom stall, only to knock your head against the mildew lined walls one more time, before hearing the Security Guard croon in his best Tom Petty voice, “You don’t come around here no more.”  

Since the era of #METO began, Unicorn Staffing would have to conduct more rigorous background checks with ex-girlfriends for Unicorn star studs they represented, who couldn’t control their urges to whip it out during a Zoom Call, despite the Head of Application Development from South Wales, Australia trying to manage an unwanted sexual harassment claims at work in a post virtual meeting COVID controlled universe gone cagy nuts, by addressing his team of developers and designers with, “Welcome all. Now if everyone is going to feel safe during this Zoom meeting, let’s raise all our hands high, where I can see them. Please, don’t be such a knee jerk reactionary cunt about it, you Jefferey Toobin wannabes at the New Yorker, thanks.”  Sexual harassment was a dirty secret infesting the tech startup world today, even among, the biggest tech company in the world Google, despite most of the employees being too busy banging out to code, to actually hit on girls at work while sporting their yenta noise cancelation headphones in the 1st place. Plus, your typical software command script at Google or elsewhere, wasn’t, “Massage my carpel tunnel, ho.”

Now, Patrick, the IT Recruiter is conducting a background check with a 25-year-old, chesty Digital Marketing Manager Lisa, based on her LinkedIn Profile picture, who used to date his star candidate awaiting a verbal offer of 145K for a new permanent Creative Technologist Director position with a cannabis lifestyle startup Budranker.com, from Oakland, CA, looking to expand its online digital magazine division here in NYC, targeted toward working, functional pothead millennial mousketeers. Patrick, takes a deep breath, loosens his tie a tad and gets ready to call,  Lisa, the Digital Marketing Manager for Hip Hops, a new multi-level old-school hip hop gastropub club in the East Village about the extent of her past relationship with his star candidate, which he’s very proud of connecting with, after LinkedIn banned him from the site for sending too many failed connection requests, before enrolling in a Spam A Lot Less Sales Seminar, offered by a former power ballad songwriter for hire turned Life Career Coach, Michael Rocker. Patrick calls and says, “Hi Lisa, this is Patrick Dublin. I’m an IT Recruiter for Unicorn Staffers, calling you about Max Diesel, whose being considered for a top Creative Technologist Director position for a cannabis startup, Budranker.com. Can I ask you a couple of quick questions about your relationship with Max in the past?”

Lisa says, “Yeah, we only hooked up once after meeting at the Windows Expo in downtown LA. it was right around the time Microsoft and had bought LinkedIn. I was working as a bartender hostess at the event, before I met the CEO of Sierra Nevada at same event, before becoming their Digital Marketing Manager after I started riffing while making some drinks, insisting, Sierra Nevada Torpedo IPA blows all other IPA’s out of the water. Then, I crafted their sentimental laced campaign for the 30-year anniversary of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, calling it the pale ale that get’s stale. I conceptualized the guerilla marketing campaign for printing a bunch of bar napkins with love poems on them in honor of 1st loves, my personal favorite being, “I fell in love with you from the start. You’re my favorite valentine etched on my heart. You made love spill out of me like overflowing treasure. The idea of pounding you again, gives me non-stop pleasure. You were my 1st love, when I didn’t know what that meant. All I knew is that were heaven sent. Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, You Never Got Over US Did You. So, Max starts flirting with me after I snagged the business card for the CEO of Sierra Nevada and says, “This is my impersonation of merger talk between Dr. Dre and Eminem after Microsoft paid 4.5 billion for LinkedIn, “Hey slim, Microsoft paid 4.5 billion for LinkedIn. Eminem says, “Worrdddddddddd. Linked in lamer than ever yoh.” Personally, Max had me at Hey Slim, because he dropped his voice low enough to pull off a semi-decent Dr. impersonation. Hey, did you know Hitler’s birthday is on 420? Puffing the bong to more Tuff Gong never felt so wrong. I haven’t felt this betrayed since Sly Stallone snuck Mel Gibson into Expendables 3.” So, to answer your question, I hooked up with Max on the dance floor sky bar in West Hollywood later that night on the dance floor, but then, Frans Drescher from the Nanny, caught his interest and I never heard from him again. He left me a busines card and said, we should stay in touch through LinkedIn, which I’ve never got over completely, especially knowing how I got interested in hooking up with Max only after he dumped on LinkedIn in the 1st place.”

Patrick finally interrupts Lisa, trying to be diplomatic as possible, afraid of blowing his potential 9 grand commission rip in the making and says, “Well, Max thought enough you to list you as reference for ex-girlfriends to a conduct a background check to assess his sexual harassment factor risk at Budranker.com. Did Max ever touch you on the dance floor too aggressively at the Sky Bar?

Lisa says, “Hell no. I’m the one who shoved his hand up my skirt. I told him my panties were packed in my purse and we could go skinny dipping at this house in the hills, my friend was housesitting for, next to Roman Polanski’s old house, who’s a serially underrated rapist compared to Cosby in my book. I still don’t understand how they pulled the Roseanne show off the air yet have no problem showing adds for Ambien between replays of the Cosby show on syndication on Nick at Night.”

Patrick says, “You’re really funny. What are you doing wasting your time doing Digital Content Marketing for a living?” Lisa says, “I’m too sexy for stand-up Patrick. Sara Silverman and Chelsea Handler 20 years ago were never in my league of looks. Also, I don’t see myself posting endless naked pics of myself like Chelsea Handler with another book in hand to showcase my social justice warrior reading cred to downplay the world from my tit’s sagging popularity in the process either.” Patrick says, “So, if Budranker.com called you tomorrow to ask you if Max was a sexual assault liability in the making, what would your response be exactly? Lisa says, “That all depends on you Patrick. Do you like old school hip hop like most old school wigger Irish dudes from Long Island?” Patrick says, “How do you know I’m from Long Island.” Lisa says, “I already looked you up on LinkedIn. You’re cute. Why don’t we wrap this interview up at Hip Hops later tonight? I crafted the playlist, playing only old school rap myself. It’s flush with songs by Biggie, Nas, even Snoop. Who cares if Snoops brain hovers a notch below Porn Hood Hell?”  My exact measurements are 36d, my pic on the LinkedIn doesn’t give my balling beauties justice.” Patrick thinks to himself, “I better learn how to code for a new tech startup because that safe space room to get my whack on can’t come soon enough.”

The End

Michael Kornbluth

Racist Alien Attacks

“Nobody ever wrote the song, Waiting for A Fallen Angel Alien Like You”, tweets a frenzied, 10-foot-tall alien, RH Negative 5000, from a Mars espresso bar, with excellent WIFI, as he looks down on Earth with a mix of surging envy and desperate urgency, knowing if he can’t find a virgin earthling with RH negative blood to get him pregnant by midnight tonight, then his race of Fallen Angels Aliens from Mars will disintegrate into the cosmos, as would’ve been super angel contenders forever.

This secret race of fallen angels on Mars aren’t allowed to abduct and rape any old earthling into getting them pregnant either, despite Andy Dick’s repeated offers on dating sites such as, Intergalactic Beams Up My Anus Hole.com.  Finding a virgin earthing with RH negative blood is hard enough, knowing those creatures are normally emotionally evolved, blessed with superior physical prowess in the sack compared to their medium length earthlings, including stars such as Leonardo DiCaprio, Jim, MOJO rising, Morrison and Bob Marley for starters. “Bob Marley banged out 12 kids, but isn’t ganja supposed to drains your life shooter dry?  It’s fake news man”, RH Negative 5000 tweets in a race against time to save his race of fallen angels of imminent ruin, knowing all the weed in the world won’t get Seth Rogan’s kid brother to knock up RH Negative 5000, even though he could transform his body into any dream physique he wanted, despite looking like an erect Serpent and guitar God Steve Vai had a baby, when he didn’t have to change his appearance to get a virgin earthling into sticking it his alien, procreation hole.

The other problem being for RH Negative 5000, is how only 10 percent of the earth population was RH Negative, and due the advent of the Internet, dick pick swiping sites and online porn, virgins are pickier and more selective than ever before, and I don’t recall Alien porn being a popular hashtag category on Youporn.com nor was Pete Townsend ever caught clicking on Soapy Alien Bottom Boys.com, in the name of new song research about a Pinball Wizard who gets probed by a race of white , pure blood, RH negative aliens, for his out this world, old school arcade game prowess because playing Guitar Hero on the XBOX get’s played out fast, when you can do mind blowing, Pete Townsend solo’s from Live At Leeds with five arms doing non-stop windmills out of your ass.

Little did RH Negative 5000 know, that one his followers on Twitter was 9-year-old girl from horse country in North Salem, NY who believed in fallen angels, especially since her father was a conspiracy theorist comedian Michael Kornbluth, named after the archangel who applied the final smackdown kick on the Loose Lipped Lucifer, which kicked him out of Heaven to his new liar in the Hollywood Hills behind Bill Cosby’s house for good. Actually, Matilda just got her family tree report from Ancestry.com and confirmed ancestry with RH Negative blood, who lived in Boswell, New Mexico, otherwise known as the Mecca for UFO landings, on earth, because Fallen Angels aliens from Mars knew Val Kilmer owned a ranch nearby, which was cool enough for them, knowing he played one of their kind in the Doors with such as believable, otherworldly authority.

Now, Matilda was always intrigued by the Twitter handle, RH Negative 5000, especially the profile shot of what looked like an extra scaly, greenish guitar God Steve Vai, after puking his brains from breaking his one month fast with In and Out Burgers, animal style, in his attempt to pen a sequel to his masterful magnum opus guitar swansong for the ages, For The Love Of God, stop letting Twitter teach your kids Dr. Seuss is racist, he’s not.

Matilda loved her father reading Dr. Seuss books to her, especially when he’d make his own rhymes if Dr. Seuss got a tad repetitive again, because he’s guilty of peaking early. The other night actually, her Do It All Comedian Dad did some riffing to her extreme delight to unearth some comedy gold material after the latest and greatest Dr. Seuss cancelation movement from the side of tolerance, unity and joy spreading peace and says, “Dr. Seuss drew a picture of a topless African in a grass shirt. He’s a racist then, it’s set. But I didn’t know Fubu was in fashion yet.”

What Matilda love most about her daddy reading her Dr. Seuss books was how he adopted his infectious love of rhyme, always pointing out how Walt Clyde Frazier, NBA broadcaster for the Knicks was in the fact the slickest, tongue twisting cat of his time.  More importantly, Matilda loved how her school was celebrating Dr. Seuss’s birthday this week for national reading appreciation month at her school, who was born in March like herself, which in her book was extra cool. This coming Friday, it was silly switch day in honor of Dr. Seuss, which Matilda found extra comical because despite having 2 working parents on all the Adderall in the world, she could never find a pair of matching socks for school ever, which made every day for her, Mismatched Sock Day.  

Matilda’s comedian father encouraged Matilda to open a Twitter account for her 10th birthday to use as a humongous open mike to test out her poems because she wanted to become the female Dr. Seuss, with a PHD in Counseling Psychology, in her final paper arguing, how time release Adderall is legalized cocaine in addition to being a gateway drug to weed to high octane IPA’s to chill out your aggravated, easily avoidable added noise in their mind. While also making the argument how a time-release dark chocolate smoothie can help maintains these kid’s inner, sparky essence while helping increase their powers of concentration in addition to being much lighter on the heart, compared to big pharma cranked out speed to.

Now, the moment Matilda got a Twitter account, Twitter suggested she start following RH Negative 5000, so she did.  RH Negative 5000 already on his 5000th cup of espresso, without any clue as how to audition, let alone recruit, virgins with RH Negative to impregnate him to keep his race of Alien Fallen Angels alive. So in a desperate Hail Mary attempt, sends a direct message to Matilda on Twitter and says, “Do you have any virgin cousins who are RH negative in Roswell, New Mexico interested in knowing what Fallen Angel Alien Love Is?” Matilda being a huge Foreigner fan, because her Daddy pushed the band on her early and often, in his pursuit to be a podcast comedian hero of his own replies to the DM and says, “I have a Cousin Jonathan whose still a virgin at 15. He’s very picky. Plus, his Dad homeschooled through the ME To movement and only sent him packing for Junior High with his Kiss backpack flush with pre-poundage release forms. My cousin Jonathan is also really into Joe Satriani and played Surfing With An Alien for his Bar Mitzvah Party from start to finish, so it’s worth a shot. ”

RG 5000 replies, “I have to get pregnant with a virgin earthling with a RG negative blood, or my fallen angel race will never be given our wings again to swoop down to the Kennedy compound to seduce the next Marilyn Monroe impersonator they hire for another July 4th annual barbeque retreat. Marilyn had R negative blood, which makes sense, because her slamming bod is impossible to clone, let alone replicate. But were not too picky and are used to sloppy seconds on Mars for the past 5000 years actually. Also, I have the power to turn into any female form your cousin desires, if he isn’t into having sex with alien Steve Vai drag Queen look alike.”

Matilda ponders this big ask request and replies back, “I’ll make the call, but you have to do me a favor 1st.” R5 5000 says, “Whatever you want, just name it.” Matilda says, “Abduct Spike Lee and threaten to anally probe him before giving him an intergalactic Tossed Salad if he doesn’t stick up for Dr. Seuss and buy the movie rights to,”And To Think I Saw It on Mulberry St?, starring Chazz Palminteri, playing some second generation pizza maker in the early eighties in the Bronx who gave Grandmaster Flash the freedom to play his demo tapes in pizzeria on his boom box on Frank Sinatra’s birthday to make every day feel like Black Appreciation Day, deal?”

RJ 5000 replies, “I better morph into Pam Grier from the seventies, snag Richard Pryor’s old strap on from eBay and tap Bill Cosby’s old Quaalude dealer in the Hills to make Spike loosen up to the idea before he pens the screenplay, Racist Alien Attacks Boy, instead. I’m in no rush to get canceled and kicked off Twitter, before my planet implodes just yet.

The End

Michael Kornbluth

Racist Alien Attacks

“Nobody ever wrote the song, Waiting for A Fallen Angel Alien Like You”, tweets a frenzied, 10-foot-tall alien, RH Negative 5000, from a Mars espresso bar, with excellent WIFI, as he looks down on Earth with a mix of surging envy and desperate urgency, knowing if he can’t find a virgin earthling with RH negative blood to get him pregnant by midnight tonight, then his race of Fallen Angels Aliens from Mars will disintegrate into the cosmos, as would’ve been super angel contenders forever.

This secret race of fallen angels on Mars aren’t allowed to abduct and rape any old earthling into getting them pregnant either, despite Andy Dick’s repeated offers on dating sites such as, Intergalactic Beams Up My Anus Hole.com.  Finding a virgin earthing with RH negative blood is hard enough, knowing those creatures are normally emotionally evolved, blessed with superior physical prowess in the sack compared to their medium length earthlings, including stars such as Leonardo DiCaprio, Jim, MOJO rising, Morrison and Bob Marley for starters. “Bob Marley banged out 12 kids, but isn’t ganja supposed to drains your life shooter dry?  It’s fake news man”, RH Negative 5000 tweets in a race against time to save his race of fallen angels of imminent ruin, knowing all the weed in the world won’t get Seth Rogan’s kid brother to knock up RH Negative 5000, even though he could transform his body into any dream physique he wanted, despite looking like an erect Serpent and guitar God Steve Vai had a baby, when he didn’t have to change his appearance to get a virgin earthling into sticking it his alien, procreation hole.

The other problem being for RH Negative 5000, is how only 10 percent of the earth population was RH Negative, and due the advent of the Internet, dick pick swiping sites and online porn, virgins are pickier and more selective than ever before, and I don’t recall Alien porn being a popular hashtag category on Youporn.com nor was Pete Townsend ever caught clicking on Soapy Alien Bottom Boys.com, in the name of new song research about a Pinball Wizard who gets probed by a race of white , pure blood, RH negative aliens, for his out this world, old school arcade game prowess because playing Guitar Hero on the XBOX get’s played out fast, when you can do mind blowing, Pete Townsend solo’s from Live At Leeds with five arms doing non-stop windmills out of your ass.

Little did RH Negative 5000 know, that one his followers on Twitter was 9-year-old girl from horse country in North Salem, NY who believed in fallen angels, especially since her father was a conspiracy theorist comedian Michael Kornbluth, named after the archangel who applied the final smackdown kick on the Loose Lipped Lucifer, which kicked him out of Heaven to his new liar in the Hollywood Hills behind Bill Cosby’s house for good. Actually, Matilda just got her family tree report from Ancestry.com and confirmed ancestry with RH Negative blood, who lived in Boswell, New Mexico, otherwise known as the Mecca for UFO landings, on earth, because Fallen Angels aliens from Mars knew Val Kilmer owned a ranch nearby, which was cool enough for them, knowing he played one of their kind in the Doors with such as believable, otherworldly authority.

Now, Matilda was always intrigued by the Twitter handle, RH Negative 5000, especially the profile shot of what looked like an extra scaly, greenish guitar God Steve Vai, after puking his brains from breaking his one month fast with In and Out Burgers, animal style, in his attempt to pen a sequel to his masterful magnum opus guitar swansong for the ages, For The Love Of God, stop letting Twitter teach your kids Dr. Seuss is racist, he’s not.

Matilda loved her father reading Dr. Seuss books to her, especially when he’d make his own rhymes if Dr. Seuss got a tad repetitive again, because he’s guilty of peaking early. The other night actually, her Do It All Comedian Dad did some riffing to her extreme delight to unearth some comedy gold material after the latest and greatest Dr. Seuss cancelation movement from the side of tolerance, unity and joy spreading peace and says, “Dr. Seuss drew a picture of a topless African in a grass shirt. He’s a racist then, it’s set. But I didn’t know Fubu was in fashion yet.”

What Matilda love most about her daddy reading her Dr. Seuss books was how he adopted his infectious love of rhyme, always pointing out how Walt Clyde Frazier, NBA broadcaster for the Knicks was in the fact the slickest, tongue twisting cat of his time.  More importantly, Matilda loved how her school was celebrating Dr. Seuss’s birthday this week for national reading appreciation month at her school, who was born in March like herself, which in her book was extra cool. This coming Friday, it was silly switch day in honor of Dr. Seuss, which Matilda found extra comical because despite having 2 working parents on all the Adderall in the world, she could never find a pair of matching socks for school ever, which made every day for her, Mismatched Sock Day.  

Matilda’s comedian father encouraged Matilda to open a Twitter account for her 10th birthday to use as a humongous open mike to test out her poems because she wanted to become the female Dr. Seuss, with a PHD in Counseling Psychology, in her final paper arguing, how time release Adderall is legalized cocaine in addition to being a gateway drug to weed to high octane IPA’s to chill out your aggravated, easily avoidable added noise in their mind. While also making the argument how a time-release dark chocolate smoothie can help maintains these kid’s inner, sparky essence while helping increase their powers of concentration in addition to being much lighter on the heart, compared to big pharma cranked out speed to.

Now, the moment Matilda got a Twitter account, Twitter suggested she start following RH Negative 5000, so she did.  RH Negative 5000 already on his 5000th cup of espresso, without any clue as how to audition, let alone recruit, virgins with RH Negative to impregnate him to keep his race of Alien Fallen Angels alive. So in a desperate Hail Mary attempt, sends a direct message to Matilda on Twitter and says, “Do you have any virgin cousins who are RH negative in Roswell, New Mexico interested in knowing what Fallen Angel Alien Love Is?” Matilda being a huge Foreigner fan, because her Daddy pushed the band on her early and often, in his pursuit to be a podcast comedian hero of his own replies to the DM and says, “I have a Cousin Jonathan whose still a virgin at 15. He’s very picky. Plus, his Dad homeschooled through the ME To movement and only sent him packing for Junior High with his Kiss backpack flush with pre-poundage release forms. My cousin Jonathan is also really into Joe Satriani and played Surfing With An Alien for his Bar Mitzvah Party from start to finish, so it’s worth a shot. ”

RG 5000 replies, “I have to get pregnant with a virgin earthling with a RG negative blood, or my fallen angel race will never be given our wings again to swoop down to the Kennedy compound to seduce the next Marilyn Monroe impersonator they hire for another July 4th annual barbeque retreat. Marilyn had R negative blood, which makes sense, because her slamming bod is impossible to clone, let alone replicate. But were not too picky and are used to sloppy seconds on Mars for the past 5000 years actually. Also, I have the power to turn into any female form your cousin desires, if he isn’t into having sex with alien Steve Vai drag Queen look alike.”

Matilda ponders this big ask request and replies back, “I’ll make the call, but you have to do me a favor 1st.” R5 5000 says, “Whatever you want, just name it.” Matilda says, “Abduct Spike Lee and threaten to anally probe him before giving him an intergalactic Tossed Salad if he doesn’t stick up for Dr. Seuss and buy the movie rights to,”And To Think I Saw It on Mulberry St?, starring Chazz Palminteri, playing some second generation pizza maker in the early eighties in the Bronx who gave Grandmaster Flash the freedom to play his demo tapes in pizzeria on his boom box on Frank Sinatra’s birthday to make every day feel like Black Appreciation Day, deal?”

RJ 5000 replies, “I better morph into Pam Grier from the seventies, snag Richard Pryor’s old strap on from eBay and tap Bill Cosby’s old Quaalude dealer in the Hills to make Spike loosen up to the idea before he pens the screenplay, Racist Alien Attacks Boy, instead. I’m in no rush to get canceled and kicked off Twitter, before my planet implodes just yet.

The End

Michael Kornbluth

Dr. Seuss is Tony Robbins For Kids

Dr. Seuss’s illustrations are steeped in harmful stereotypes they say. But I don’t recall him drawing a picture of BLM protestors looting the Gucci store, who refuse to pay.

Dr. Seuss drew a picture of a topless African in a grass skirt. He’s a racist then, it’s set. But I didn’t know Fubu was in fashion yet.

Has anybody complained about the hooked nosed, Goblin Bankers in Harry Potter yet? You know Mel Gibson was overjoyed with that movie set. Did JK Rowling, think, I’m hiring Mel Gibson as the set designer on my flick, Mel being a throbbing Jew hater dick, makes him my automatic number one pick.

What if I don’t care for Green Eggs and Ham? This means what, I hate the Irish race and refuse to play beer bong with them at such a rapid fire pace? Or does it mean, I insist on watching Irish movies with subtitles because of the funny way they sound, while also refusing to unfold my arms and dance in junior high to more Jump Around?

Dr. Seuss drew pictures of Asians eating with chopsticks, how sick. It’s worse than drawing a picture of Cardi’s B dropping her slippery chopsticks into her cum bucket, full of other forgotten stuffing’s in there like a lost lost chicken nugget.

What happens in the book, And To Think I Saw It on Mulberry St? Did Sonny and his crew beat up a bunch of rowdy bikers on the street, because they sprayed beer on the bartender and should’ve stuck to ordering their drinks neat? Wait a minute that happened in the Bronx Tale. American made mafia tales about the working man can’t be beat. I only wish Chazz Palminteri’s acting career, still packed so much heat.

Dr. Seuss is the Tony Robins for kids, who continues to inspires millions of kids to keep fighting for their dreams, instead of recommending they watch, 13 Reasons Why, whenever they feel their lives are falling apart at the seams.

Dr. Seuss was right. There is fun to be done and games to win. Just stop playing the victim, give Twitter a time out or just dump your tablet into the trash bin.

Michael Kornbluth

The Jolt Felt Around The World

It was 1986, Metroid came out on the original Nintendo, which had a female protagonist alien destroyer who reveals her bushy Red Sonia hair at the end after tossing off her futuristic, intergalactic helmet with bad ass, nonchalant, superhero flourish, as if Molly Ringwald and Stan Lee had a dreamy comic book baby creation come to life.  Matilda, Singing Rose Kornbluth was in the 4th grade, spending more time now star gazing with her new telescope she got for Hanukkah than playing Metroid because she saw how tweaky, sketchy her younger brother got once he got addicted to winning Metroid before his big sister did. Her younger brother Arthur, would now sneak downstairs to the basement to pound his secret stash of later discontinued Jolt cola, which was the equivalent of 6 cups of coffee, resulting in him becoming the most sleep deprived 1st grader since Sam Kinson hooked up Drew Barrymore with his coke dealer at the Comedy Store. But her younger brother didn’t finish off all of his Jolt stash in the garage because Matilda had snagged the rest to stay up for Haley’s Comet, which she couldn’t afford to miss, because she had to write a paper about it for class. Actually, Matilda’s 4th grade teacher, Mrs. McCracken, gave her a permission to stay up late for Haley’s Comet by any means necessary, saying, “Isaac Newton wasn’t sent to jail for proving the earth was round, for her to punk out and be a lazy brain, Goody Tushu square.”

Now, Matilda is pounding more Jolt and noshing on some leftover Milky Way’s from Halloween she discovered hidden in the garage, eagerly awaiting to spot the world’s most famous comet blaze across the sky, knowing she won’t be able to see it again till 2061. By then, Matilda saw herself as a retired, famous Astrophysicist who would eventually go viral, despite the Internet not being invented yet, when she tells Carl Sagen on Real Time With Bill Maher her big bang theory, which was, “His mother was an atheist cunt to.”

Matilda realizes she’s out of Jolt and in a frenzied spurt, darts downstairs to grab one more Jolt despite in her inner square telling her she was getting more into the tweaky sugar rush high than catching a twice in a lifetime event, if you’re lucky, knowing it was still 1986 and Wonder Bread still ruled everything around us, before Benjamin’s become common vernacular after Puff helped Bigg blow bigger up than you know what. Meanwhile, Matilda’s younger brother Arthur was on his final stage of finally winning Metroid downstairs in the TV room, with his eyes two feet from the TV as he sits Indian style in sweats and his NY Giant Mark Bavaro Rambo shirt from Big League Threads. As Matilda zooms down the stairs, she spots Arthur still up playing Metroid. Normally, Arthur would be oblivious to all other action around him while playing Metroid, especially in his pursuit to finally the win the game before his big sister, yet unfortunately, she inherited her dear Dada’s clunky, heavy feet, which made it impossible to ever stay out late past curfew when she got older, especially knowing the creaky, old wooden, colonial steps weren’t helping her stomping trail of sound subside anytime soon either.

Arthur turns his head and spots Matilda and yells, “You didn’t see me. Don’t tell Dad. I’ll tell him you drank Jolt on a school night to.” Matilda says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Arthur. I’m not Matilda, you’re just hallucinating from major sleep deprivation.  I’m actually surprised you’re not partially blind like Hon Solo after Leia unfreezes him from Carbonite in Jabba’s place actually.” Arthur adds, “Don’t BS me Tilda. Wait a minute, I didn’t press the reset button to pause it.” Now, Arthur’s Metroid character gets his marrow sucked to death from a giant green forcefield enclosing, brain eating Alien bug. Arthur freaks out as expected, yelling, “I got killed Tilda. I’ve never been this close to winning. I’m to get you back for this. Can your telescope fly out the window? Let’s find out.”

Matilda says, “Don’t even think about it touching Arthur, I haven’t even seen Haley’s Comet yet. Matilda and Arthur bolt upstairs to his big sister’s room to wrestle control over the telescope, waking up her dad in the process. They barely squeeze in through her bedroom door together, almost becoming crazy glued together like a pair of tweaked Siamese twins. As they finally push loose through the door, they trip over each landing on top of her red, waxy bean bag with discarded Milk Way wrappers on it. Dad comes in and says, “What’s all this commotion about? And why is everyone still up? Haley’s Comet just flew by 5 minutes ago. The show’s over baby.” Matilda has Arthur in a headlock on the bean bag while giving him a brain drilling noogie, look ups to her Dad and asks in a perplexed, enraged disgust, “Why didn’t you grab me for Haley’s Comet Dad?’ Dad says, “But then I’d miss it. Plus, these telescopes don’t grown on trees. Besides, you get to grow up with Alf. He’ll provide you all the comic relief you’ll need. “

The End

Michael Kornbluth

Mr. San Diego

Grilled fish tacos are lame, especially the ones from Baja Fresh, a popular health-conscious LA fast food chain, where your sense of charming individuality and personalized edge flat line to death and die. Are grilled fish tacos healthier than battered fried ones? Did Tony Gwynn strike out less than a teen George Brett at Daytona Beach on Spring Break?  Also, did the 8-time batting champion, who batted .391 in 94, who hit .412 against the equally nerdy Greg Maddox in the post season, ever leave the impression, he’d spray even more doubles all over Petco Stadium if he went on a diet with Kirby Puckett and only ate In and Out Burgers ATKINS style, using lettuce as buns instead?  If you’ve never made your own homemade Big Ups Batter Up Beer Batter Baja Fish Tacos or never sampled the all-star goods from San Diego founded, famed fast food Tex-Mex chain Rubio’s, to inhale their battered fish burrito in 7 bites max, then your life sucks more than the snotty clogged Lupus from the Bad News Bear, before he snags a high fly ball over right field and chants with sudden clear voiced, take no shit bravado, “Just wait till next year”, before pouring beer on Miguel who looks like the uncoordinated Latino Tony Gwyn in the making.

Now, I’ve fried up Icelandic Cod using the standard, eggs, flour and panko breadcrumbs, or from using homemade discarded breadcrumbs ones, blah, blah, blah, yet all those crispy exteriors, even the non-blotchy, all covering coating jobs were flimsier than Wade Boggs power numbers against Roger Clemens during batting practice compared to my Lagunitas infused beer battered one. Regardless, if Nolan Ryan drank the cocksure Roger Clemens under the table the previous night and beat his ass in darts with overpowering, clutch precision, only to throw the upstart hothead into a crippling headlock for trying to call fake news bullseyes one too many times over a high stakes game of darts during All-Star weekend in Houston, when Robert Redford was deemed young enough to play the Natural because the casting director wanted a more stoic, wooden version of Kevin Costner if possible.

Big Ups Batter Up Beer Batter slams all other breaded exterior concoctions out of the park by providing far superior crunch, snap and pop like Barry Bonds on the HGH, before his balls become the size of gumballs, better suited for the kid in the Bazooka Joe comic strips back in the day. Still, the added juicy, crackling oomph my Lagunitas IPA beer batter, mixed with rice flour, flour and baking powder required more rounded out flavor to make this Baja fish taco, the go to hot dog substitute to snag at the ballgame in Petco Field where the San Diego Padres play because HGH alone wasn’t responsible for Barry Bond’s breaking, Hammering Hank’s homerun record, knowing if I took steroids at sleepaway camp, I just would’ve struck at a more accelerated speed. If you’re going to make a consistently clutch, hit heavy Baja fish taco from home, you must add more boogie down balance and funky snap by rounding out the lineup  with a homemade pickled, purple cabbage slaw with jalapenos and Mexican oregano in addition to spreading the mini warmed flour tortilla with plenty of sumptuous, chipotle adobe mayo crema love, lined with plenty of chili powdered, in your face, spiky kick like the edge of Ty Cobb’s extra sparkly cleats up your ass, as he flew home like a bat out of hell in another blaze of natural born killer glory.

The Baja Fish tacos were a real hit with my kids, earning plenty of, “delicious nods”, so much so that I decided to make it a double header and serve them on back-to-back to nights this past weekend, doing my best hit heavy, consistently clutch, Mr. Sand Diego impression with endless joy spewing, Spring Training is almost here cheer.  For back-to-back nights, in our humble east coast Abode, Tony Gwynn, Mr. San Diego, the 1st ballot hall of famer, who would’ve most likely hit 400 or higher similar to Ted Williams during the abbreviated 94 strike seasoned lived again, especially knowing he didn’t become so pleasantly plump like fellow high average hitting sluggers such as John Kruck in the 90’s from sticking to protein shakes and black bean soup for after double header game feasts to. Even Don Mattingly, Mr. Neat, would’ve gotten his mustache and pristine pinstripes drenched in the crema from these Big Ups Batter Up Beer Battered Baja Fish Tacos, to eat his little hometown blues away, especially after the 94-strike season killed his shot at playing for the Yankees in the World Series, only to rip the ball off its seams into his favorite go to right field pocket in the House That Ruth Built, to make his own childhood Natural fantasy come true to.

Michael Kornbluth

Perverted Science

“Does Hollywood’s fetishized push to sexualize a new generation of kids with Instagram friendly labels such as Trans Centric or Gender Fluid Fickle, feel very organic or “child appropriate” to you, says Joe, a 17-year-old debate stud for Richard Pryor High, a new charter school in Peoria, Illinois. Unfortunately for his alpha dog debate team peers, including his best bud Paul, Joe was just getting his yak pipes warmed up, adding, “The problem with parents enabling pubescent teen mutilation makeovers, in their politicized dash to let their children slash their protracted age of innocence in half, is that it never factors in irretractable buyer’s remorse, once little Joey blooms under his Fruit of the Looms, realizing, he can’t get his grind on with a gal on the dancefloor if he wanted to, without feeling a missing link to old school rap in the process. Plus, whatever happened to kids being asexual from 1 through 11 at least? Also, for all the scientific worship these days in place of you know who, where is all the hard evidence of Chaz Bono being a beacon of mental calm  since his far later in life transformation into Just One Of The Guys? You know, the same Chaz Bono who doesn’t eat wings at the bar, wishing he was at The MGM Grand in Vegas instead, to hear Cher belt out If I Can Turn Back Time to relieve his severe case of blue balls paralysis already.

Paul finally cuts off his dear debating bud and goes in for the retaliatory attack and says, “Is this a debate team trial run or Joe’s personalized open mike to test out more groan generating trans material for the Montreal Comedy Festival? I get it, Little Boy Blue in the 4th grade at 9 years old isn’t expected to declare his major in Gender Studies at Oberlin College just yet. So why should we expect him to make a life changing decision such as sexual realignment surgery any sooner than when he turns 19? 19 is the new 15 because that’s when most kids are losing their virginity these days anyway, especially since swiping for dick picks became the death of small talk on both sides of the glory hole cubby divide. I don’t think the government should be allowed to intervene on their parent’s behalf though, if they start feeding their 9-year-old effeminate son enough testosterone blockers to turn him into Mayor Pete’s dumpier, side up half. I bet it was Mayor Pete’s idea to parade his hubby around triple masked in a Winnie The Poo coat, as if catching the China made virus from a stiff breeze is a bigger concern for him than barebacking in the shower at the local health club on KY jelly street without flip flops on for gay pride swinger week. Wait a minute, now I’m doing Trans schtick to. Look, how can I be transphobic if I’d rather suck off Bruce Jenner with no makeup on and suck up every last demon drop, than go to the Lego Store with my nephews again, after the coast was clear, with all our masks secure on, feeling like Michael Jackson on holiday in Bahrain, before Magic made HIV disappear? I’m actually turned on immensely  by she males myself, knowing they typically possess tighter bods than most girls willing to date me. You also know, they know have no problem swallowing because they have no other use for my love juice. Also, most girls today have blown up looking snatches by 16, so I’m not complaining about a tighter hole to not get her pregnant in either. I’d even go the movies again, assuming they ever reopen to see a trans remake of Weird Science, except this time they’d create their dream Shemale vision come true all over their shattered visions of rock-solid heterosexuality ever again. Still, I’m a talking about a made up movie, Perverted Science, where the doll who comes to life is played by a real life, grown Trans woman, who made an informed, evolved decision because he she wanted to come in closer contact with her feminine side, and realized along the way how she made a better-looking chick. And if you got it, flaunt it baby. I tried putting a pink wig on once and make up after my girlfriend got a strap on for us to play with one night and never in a million years, did I think I’d look like such an ugly, homely looking bitch. Granted, when I played basketball in junior high, I used to run on my tippy toes, looking like I was running in high heels instead of high tops. But this still doesn’t mean, I was a gentle high stepper of any kind. If LaVar Ball was my substitute coach dad, he’d still bark on the sidelines, yelling, “Were trying to sell Ballerwear son, not Jimmy Choo’s. I think Paul and I should start selling Trans jokes to Dave Chappelle because he can afford to not give a shit, we can’t. Who wants to have that debate next? White comics can’t get away this material tóday ever. Even Aerosmith is getting grief these days for their song Dude Looks Like A Lady, which is ridiculous because in the song Steven Tyler takes more than a peak, proclaiming with surging, mounting, lust, “Oh, what a funky lady. And I like it, like it, like it yeah.” So did Richard Pryor, he said it was the best piece of pussy he ever had, so get over it already. Hate speech, not. Maybe, I won’t give up on wining a debating scholarship if Chris Rock finances a new college serving as a safe space for politically incorrect material, God forbid.

The End

Michael Kornbluth

Shell Shocked Snappy

Wine Coolers, Jello Shots and reluctant repeat sips from your 1st can of Budweiser help melt teen shyness away. But pet Snapping Turtles aren’t 9th graders in junior high, who haven’t got into the puberty party yet either. At this point, Matilda a 12-year-old entrepreneur and inventor of a suction sticking party ball strobe light machine called Party Magic, was willing to blow some of her Kickstarter startup money on a Past Life Regression consultation with an Animal Communicator at a nearby Crystal Shop in Ridgefield, CT to get her new pet Snapping Turtle Snappy to come out of his shell already because changing his name from Waxy to Snappy wasn’t helping. More than anything, Matilda wanted to boogie board in Australia, her mama’s home country, along Mother’s Beach, 30 minutes north of Melbourne for her parents 10 year anniversary yet she didn’t feel safe in those Jelly Fish infested waters without a trustworthy, Snapping Turtle to ward off attacks by her side, knowing their preference for scarfing up electric, purple haze stingers.

The 70 something, bushy haired, frumpy, shawl strangled, Sedona sun wrinkled transplant, Animal Communicator, Talks With Toads, lounged out in her cubby size room office within a crystal shop in nearby Ridgefield, CT, and takes of her bi focal glasses to examine Snappy The Turtle more closely. Who Matilda reveals hiding in her old beat up backpack, knowing his tendency to fart uncontrollably, especially around strangers, which she considered a reason for why Snappy The Turtle’s head was hid in perpetual shame so often.  Talks With Toads says, “Matilda, over the phone you said, Snappy won’t come out of his shell around strangers.” Matilda says, “I’ve offered him Lobster Rolls from Stew Leonard’s, smoked Nova from Russ and Daughters, bought him the Tony Robbins audiobook boxset, which wasn’t cheap either, so I’m running out of options hêre. Our first Kornbluth family vacation to Australia is tomorrow and I don’t know what to do, because Snappy is my 2nd line of defense against all those Jelly Fish in Australia after the Jelly Fish nets which aren’t even available in the beaches in Bondi, and that’s where all the serious boogie board action happens anyway. My parents wanted to get married in Australia, where my mom is from originally yet my Grandma shot it down. She calls my dad and says, “Australia is a long trip from New York Scoops and your dad doesn’t love you that much.” Then, my dad made a compromise with my mom and says, “If we have boy one day, will hire Crocodile Dundee for the circumcision, just to hear a room of Jews say, “Now that’s a knife. You can chop it all off with that thing.”

Talks With Toads spits out a deep, weighty laugh, opening up her throat chakra more than any downward dog pose ever could and says, “Does Snappy ever come out of his shell around your daddy or does he get intimidated by larger-than-life comedians to? I saw his performance at the Montreal Comedy Festival on YouTube and coughed up a lung in he process. He made such a strong, funny man impression the last time your family dropped by the crystal shop. And I don’t care for most stand-up comedy these days. Plus, how creepy is the comic Anthony Jeselnik, knowing that he considers psychic surveys on how many missing children they’ve seen through their Carrot Cards as being the height of God loving hilarity today?” Matilda says, “In Anthony Jeselnik’s defense, God commands his chosen people to forsake the counsel of psychics in Deuteronomy, but my dad told me is was Kosher to make an exception in Snappy The Turtle’s defense.”

Talks With Toads does her best to shrug off a smart-ass Jewess rubbing God’s law in her face with such effortless fluency and decides to plow forward with her Past Life Regression reading for Snappy The Turtle, so she can get back to watching some bestiality horse on man porn on her lunch break, which now can’t come soon enough. Talks With Toads grabs a sapphire crystal from a cramped, unorganized drawer, representing the entire kitchen sink of healing, past life reading gemstones known to mankind and places it on Snappy The Turtle’s shell. Talks With Toads says, “I see a Deadhead at Giant Stadium in a Soup Truck RV called Terrapin Soup, blowing high grade, 75 dollar an eighth weed into Snappy The Turtle’s face again and again as the live version of Scarlet Begonia’s from Cornell 77 blasts on the tape deck in the background. I stopped going to shows after I stopped smoking weed myself.”

Matilda says, “After my 2nd birthday, my Dad took me to a Dead Show in Bethel Woods, in upstate New York. I pointed at a dinged up looking Deadhead sucking down a Nitrous balloon and said, “Birthday.” And my dad says, “No, Burn Out Day.” Talks With Toads unleashes another full throaty laugh again and says, “Wait a minute. No, he can’t be.” Matilda’s interest in Talks With Toad’s Past Life Regression Reading has reached peak interest and says, “What do you see now? Is the Deadhead owner feeding Snappy The Turtle’s head with a sheet of acid or what?” Talks With Toads takes a deep breath, doing her best to conceal her startled state as she pulls back her long, tangly grey hair and utters in a whispery, barely audible tone, “The Deadhead owner is serving Snappy The Turtle’s family for dinner.”

Matilda jumps out of her chair in a bewildered state of dígust and yells, “I thought Deadheads ate Grilleđ Cheese Sandwiches after Dead shows when they got the munchies.” Talks With Toads says, “Munchies don’t happen when you’re on 4 tabs of acid dear. Hold on, I see a line of Deadheads around the parking lot in Giant Stadium waiting for this Terrapin Turtle Soup Truck to serve bowls of Turtle Soup to cure more endless bad trips on Hêrculean amounts of acid. The Merry Pranksters used to spike garbage cans full of fruit punch with Acid during 3-hour Dead jam sessions back in the day before you tripped over shit throughout the Cable Car lined streets of San Francisco. Eventually, the college dropout hippies who weren’t banking on replacing Santana anytime soon, became howling, starved lunatics, left with no other choice but to eat stray cats behind the dumpster at Mu Shu York’s. Soon after, a famed chef from New Orleans, Gumbo Greg, who went on to become the executive chef at the Philly Club for years before opening his own restaurant in North Beach, Chowder Panisse, gave Jerry Garcia the idea of serving one of his freaked out tripping groupies some Turtle Soup in their house on Haight Ashbury to cure her bad trip, after doing the same for Dr. John during Jazz Fest once after he crawled himself up into ball on stage, thinking, he’d turned into psychedelic, night tripping crawfish. Crawfish, you know Shrimp with more personality, similar to John Mayer teaming up with Grateful Dead and Company, injecting scruffy smooth with a dose of much needed personality.” Snappy The Turtle finally snaps out of his shell and yells, “Thanks for the flashback bitch.”

The End

Michael Kornbluth