Tag: vets

Moonshots Galore

by doitalldadyear, posted in poetry, storytelling, writing

Saddest bumper sticker ever: My Cat Votes Democrat. Yeah, I don’t see the FBI doing a panty raid on her behalf either. But just to reminisce a little. This is Trump and Melania handing out candy outside the White House, versus Obama hanging up ISIS flags to scare away trick or treaters. You want to know what Melania tastes like? Try some rocky candy kid. All Obama did was rebrand ISIS, ISIL, so they’d sound more startup friendly in the NY Times. Start spreading the news kid. Elon Musk in high school equals net zero bush. Without government subsidies, he’d be designing an organ harvesting app for China, called Fuck Mickey Mantle’s Liver, I’ve got a Uyghur one, total deplorable in the CCP’s eyes for half off. It’s in mint condition, because Turkish Muslims in China only drink tea anyway. Does Musk get his ball gags made in China to? If Musk stands up to Chinese censors, then I’m allergic to high end trim, the Clinton Foundation is a charitable foundation for others and Booger Nose Behar is the new Chief Happiness for Breitbart. Moonshots Galore, Mickey Mantle lives, Challah. Thank you very much. 

Michael Kornbluth

Platypus Puss Attack

by doitalldadyear, posted in fiction, storytelling, writing

What’s more despicable, going on a J Date with Al Franken or supporting the candidacy of Liz Cheney for anything besides HR Manager for Halliburton? She doesn’t even bother checking references.

“Are you cool with the US military taking out Pablo Escobar? So, Hunter can smoke crack freely without any drug enforcement collusion like he’s auditioning for the white privileged version of New Jack City? Yes, my younger brother makes Hunter come off as a slacker underachiever in comparison. Alrighty then. You start on Monday. The Taliban is in the market for some new escape pods for Kwanza. I voted for Trump twice. Get the fuck out of my office. Office, your chained to a vending machine out of Baby Ruths in a boiler room below Dante’s Inferno, below Penn Station. Get out. Fine, I’ll move to the Ukraine and get a job for a sports energy drink company that will pay me 52 grand a week to push borscht as the new Kombucha.”

But seriously, why would Al Franken throw his support behind Liz Cheney? Does he sell Spanx now for a living? Did Rebel Wilson tell him to piss off after he tried to squeeze her for a selfie in front of Jamba Juice? Rebel snaps. “You’re not Instagraming shit Al. The Alt Right will think I’m playing Liz Cheney in Oliver Stone’s new flick for Newsmax, The Day Democracy Died. Plus, the only reason pussy grabbing eludes you is because you’re only 4 foot 2. I mean what kind of self-respecting Jew supports Biden after he lied about visiting The Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh? The Rabbi vehemently denied ever meeting Mr. Groper there ever. He even went on record stating, “Do you think I hang out much at Ben & Jerry’s these days?  Rocky Road To Peace will create peace in no time. Newsflash United Nations, when Hamas terrorists in charge launch 5000 rockets into Israel’s backyard. Don’t expect an edible gift basket in return, with a thank you note written in Farsi, with all the hardened pineapple tops chucked into the Dead Sea.  Platypus Cheney could use all the tough love she could get, before resuming her job as the HR Manager for Halliburton next Monday.”

Platypus Puss Attack, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth