Death Mandate State

Why did Logan Roy drop dead suddenly? Shouldn’t the CEO of Waystar be exempt from taking the clot shot? Shouldn’t this titan of industry be smart enough to know how COVID was a man-made bioweapon used to push for mail-in voting, which ushered in the death of Voter ID? How else can you tell MS-13 apart, with all that shit on their face? I’d start trusting the Media, Big Tech, and our government, if they ever agree to report in unison on how the COVID vaccination, not the rebranded flu, is the biggest drama queen killer of them all; that’s ultimately responsible for depressing your immune system more than entry into the Dallas Buyers Club. A new report claims Jamie Foxx is blind and paralyzed after getting a blood clot in his brain from the forced COVID vaccination, in the service of revitalizing Cameron Diaz’s film career, courtesy of the Screen Actors Guild and the current death mandate administration. Unmasking death work mandates for Jamie. Now, what can you say to console someone who got quadrupled vaccinated in the name of Dr. Gnocchi Be Good? Sudden adult death syndrome is better than having to live through this never-ending shit show as the remainder of your 401 K gets amputated faster than it takes Justin Bieber to regain feeling in his boy band wrecked face. Your heart is a ticking time bomb waiting to go off faster than Trumpy Poo fans left on Breitbart who claims he never forced anyone to take the operation death speed shot, despite pushing it harder than Trump Vodka to power-hungry Ukies in the 80s. Unmasking death mandates for Jamie. Thanks, Lord, for my highly developed bullshit detection meter, which makes me one of the last true New Yorkers, standing, Challah, very much. But the death mandates are nothing to worry about, if Nick Canon is offering health updates on his friend Jamie Fox to Yahoo news. Isn’t Nick Cannon another Farrakhan apologizer licker who claims he can’t be a Jew hater because he’s a Black Hebrew Semite? Call me a racist, but I don’t think King David shows up on your Ancestry.com, Shaka Zulu.” Unmasking death mandates for Jamie, Challah. Thank you very much.


Michael Kornbluth

Losing Passions

Why can’t you criticize Billy Crystal without being deemed a bad Jew?

Just because he plays a curmudgeonly asshole comedian in Mr. Saturday Night?

Despite Jewish law prohibiting you from working during the Sabbath during your ordained day of rest?

If you want to get rid of your kids, start reading The Webster All-In-One Dictionary and Thesaurus 15 minutes before their school bus arrives.

Suddenly, I felt like Moses parting the Red Sea.

You want to make the earth move.

Start reading your kids, The Webster All In One Dictionary and Thesaurus.

My kids sprinted for the door like a bat made in Wuhan with Racoon rape rabies was on their tail.

They parted with their Nintendo Switches faster than Juno sliced off her tits.

One night, my youngest son asks, “Daddy, who’s Moses? I say, “A stuttering Jew who came through.”

Another night, my wife said, “The Bible is meant to be interpreted as Metaphorical.” I say, “Then, why are you being anal about ass play again?”

I devised a new tradition for Hannukah to instill Jewish pride among my kids called Hannukah Hat-Trick.

When you get 3 gifts for one night of Channukah, it doesn’t matter if they’re all big Kahuna gifts; you yell, “Hannukah Hat-Trick, Challah. Thank you very much.”

My wife expressed concern about my new tradition because I’m still so broke my Hebrew name is under Judicial Review.

My wife says, “Don’t get crazy with the gifts this year.” I say, “Whatever, Gentile Grinch.”

Losing passions, Challah. Thank you very much.

One year for Christmas, my in-laws got my daughter a toy chest with no toys in it.

I told my daughter.

Don’t worry, Matilda.

We have eight thousand Hannukah gifts to fill it up with.

But Billy Crystal doesn’t think Hannukah is a sexy holiday.

What’s sexy about Christmas, Billy?

Doesn’t it celebrate a virgin birth through immaculate conception?

The only thing getting fisted over Christmas is a breast-heavy Turkey.

We’re sexualizing religious holidays now.

Look, I lived in West Hollywood for three years.

Plus, I did a comedy record called Funny Enough Fagala, which means ass on fire in Yiddish.

But I’m not fretting about the absence of sexy in Hannukah like I did when living in Park Slope.

Which famed writer Norman Mailer once called “The most secure place on earth for pampered Jewish pussies to live.”

Hannukah isn’t sexy, Billy.

Unless I got enough gunk left to pump on Gina Gershon’s tits after eight miraculous hump-heavy nights, I agree, Billy.

But I’m not bending over backward to dump my Jewish identity for a Christmas Tree to feel less overtly Jewy pushy annoying around Gentiles during the holiday season.

Besides, when Gentiles see a Christmas Tree, they see a Christmas Tree.

When Jews see a Christmas Tree, they see a Camouflaged Cross.

Growing up, my dad said, “Son, Jews don’t buy Christmas Trees. Unless the plan is to convert it into a Treehouse and flip it for a profit.”

I just learned that Moses sought God’s advice after his daily power hike at the top of Mount Sinai, only for God to whip out his ten commandments on the spot. And demand, “Complain about getting Carpel Tunnel while transcribing these commandments into stone despite you being a little rusty on Hebrew. And I’ll hire your assistant Joshua to finish you off and the job for you, Kapeesh.” 

That must have been a shocker.

Moses wanted advice on marrying outside the tribe without being condemned as a polytheistic whore.

Are you going to tell me Moses never developed a surging stiffy at the sight of Prince Hakeem’s bathers in ancient Babylonian Times 6 degrees separated from Cleopatra’s burning bush?

After Alexander bursts through his lamb skin condoms giving her every STD in the book, including Homio Erectus of The Pelvis Bone.

Self-hating Jews, half-Heeb crazy or not, who bend over backwards to adopt Christmas Traditions to fit in, are gay. 

That’s like changing your Alexa voice from the dronish, deeper baritone monotone of Scarlett Johanson’s voice between estrogen throat blocker treatments in exchange for Julie Andrews.

In Billy Crystal’s Autobiography, “Jewish Yuck,” he also says, “There is a reason Norman Rockwell never painted a Jewish family dinner.” Because nobody could ever sit still from complaining with their arms too much. Or was it because Aunt Hilda’s armpit stains after working the double at Ratner’s were too off-putting for William Randolph Hearst’s readers? There is a reason Norman Rockwell never painted a Jewish family dinner. Maybe, because he’d never be fucking invited.

Didn’t Norman Rockwell paint pictures of roasting Yamaka’s over an open fire on Easter to add color to his dry-as-toast company chatter?

Good ham this year Julie. You showed those Lubavitch Jews what they’re missing for sticking with God’s old-school commandments over our do-over book, according to John the Baptist. Who’s John the Baptist again? And did he start housing pulled pork sandwiches once his boy Jesus declared all pork products Kosher? I wonder what lead Jesus to give his dad the giant the f you rebuke on that law. Did his friends goad him into doing it? Jesus, how much fucking Falafel can one man eat without turning into a moderate Muslim homemaker, assuming you go easy on the chili paste. Those pomegranate molasses Koshertarian Wings are a bit fruity-forward for my tastes. And I don’t want to give our less tolerant Muslim neighbors any freaky Fagala ideas. Jesus says, “But Muslims don’t eat pork, Joseph.”

Joseph says, “Yeah, but that’s just because Islam is culturally appropriating the shit out of Judaism. I’m supposed to believe their great Muhammad, their Islamic Moses, ascended to Heaven on a winged donkey from Mount Sinai only after Muhamad made Jihad, child sex trafficking, and rape Kosher in Allah’s gangster paradise.

But I’m supposed to believe Jesus, who was celebrating Passover during his Last Supper, decided to break free from dietary Kosher restrictions out of the blue, all of a sudden, just because the Romans opened up a Stromboli stand in the old city to test the faith of those true believers who later got tortured to death during the Inquisition for refusing to partake in Tapas served with acorn-fed prosciutto. The Spanish Jewish Prisoner moans, “How much per pound? Way too pricy; Kosher Salami poached in Christian baby blood is my cup of tea. Jews aren’t known for being real heavy drinkers, either. Who has room for heavy Spanish Reds after another spirit cooking dinner at Hillary’s palace? Hillary Hammer Time Cankles strikes biblical lore with relentless precision.

Losing passions, Challah. Thank you very much.

How do I feel about joining a Jewish Synagogue today?

Lukewarm, only to learn that an orthodox Rabbi at a nearby Synagogue in Yorktown Heights quotes form the same NPR news feed my wife subscribes to.

What’s it like being married to an atheist gentile?

Annoying, especially when your wife throws a toy train at your head after you nudge her to tell her parents that we’ve had Hebrew naming ceremonies for all three of our kids already.

I try to empathize.

Babe, I love anyone who loves God, who doesn’t want to kill me for being half Heeb crazy.

The only difference between Gentiles and Jews is that the chosen people don’t buy into Jesus being the Messiah.

A rotating door of Karen types yelling at me to wear a damn mask at the Kosher Butcher doesn’t sound like peace on earth.

Wear the damn mask.

Suck the hate speech out of my chosen schlong first, Karen.

Pretend NPR ordered you to leak it.

What’s it like raising Jewish kids without sending them to Hebrew School?

Easy, we do Shabbat prayers every Friday night.

I’ve involved them in my comedy act while writing the book The Koshertarian Comedians.

And laugh hysterically at the sight of my son Chosen Curls giving a flying elbow drop on top of our Christmas Tree that Mama bought against our wishes again.

Plus, I experience zero regrets whenever I yell at my wife for decorating our house with non-denominational Gnomes for three months leading up to December again.

I hate Gnomes.

They look like Santa’s cut-off Trust Fund Babies on Social Security.

What’s it like having dinner with my in-laws over Grace?

A time to channel my inner Kid Rock, as I say, Amen, I say Amen while being a sneaky Heeb about it because they have no idea I’m imitating Kid Rock on Rock and Roll Jesus. 

Once, my daughter admitted to lip-syncing Grace after my mother-in-law forced my 3 Jew blood-tainted kids to receive Eucharist, a Ukrainian communion without my approval.

But right now, you’re thinking.

But Zelensky is Jewish.

He had his two kids baptized.

So that’s like saying Jihadi John is Jewish.

Don’t Jihadists ever tire of pubescent dent-free trim?

Don’t they have enough blood on their hands already?

What was it like growing up with a Southern mother who converted to Judaism?

Weird, especially the time when she’d reveal her southern belle side.

Mom says, “Kentucky is known for horses and pretty women.

I say, Mom, keep your sundress on. Before you tell me, Dad is bigger than Man-O-War.

The number of Jews is declining because so many are assimilating or pulling out early from excessive meat sweats.

Michael Douglas wants to connect other Jews to faith.

Maybe, start with condemning Rabbis who use COVID, Trumpism, and the Holocaust in the same sentence over the High Holy days and will talk.

Trump was the best friend Israel ever had.

And Israel discarded him like trash in exchange for Hair Plugs Sniffer.

Who only cares about brownie sniff-offs, arming a nuclear Iran again, punishing MAGA country for electing Trumpy Poo Tits twice, and depressing the US Dollar more than Zelensky’s coke dealer since he declined his Dark Money Discover Card.

Maybe, have a Rabbi who admits to his congregation.

Obama’s the one in love with Hitler.

Obama wished he was that organized.

Exterminating any big-mouth Jewish critic who dares to criticize his thug’s lives matter most rhetoric and nuke gifting to deal to Iran would be a gas.

Losing Passions, Challah, thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Deep Biting Masterpiece

December 7, 2022

Dear Allison Adler,

Florida and Anti-Semitism are so hot right now, which is why you need to give United We Laugh a chance. We can name our next book together Mitzvah Moves, after you become the number one champion of the most hardcore hilarious Headhunter Writer Comedian you haven’t heard of yet. Heart To Hearts, a one man show turned into book form about a Dad who keeps getting passed off to another of one of his Koshertarian Comedian kids while calling them from Union Square a week before Hannukah, ranting wildly into his smartphone while desperately trying to squeeze in some last minute heart to heart conversations with his favorite fans in the universe, while thinking he’s dying of a heart attack after getting disowned from his parents after coming out of the closet as a Gender Fluid Shemale Comedian on his Do It All Dad Year Podcast, thaDxwrxw wzqQQwan g nnnt finally charts on Apple I-Tunes above Marc Maron since he became an unhinged, Big Pharma sucking, sell out hack hippie like the rest  could be a hardcore hilarious romp too.

But let’s make United We Laugh, an international best seli FCC c c CNNler 1st, because we can all rally around the COVID con, including the fake news vaccine that works less than Russell Westbrook running the Triangle Offense or a stay at home COVID truther podcast comedian for the past 5 years. Who can still make fun of election fraud, because he doesn’t have a showbiz career to squander in the 1st place. Who resumes his IT Headhunting career in North White Plains to finance self-publishing his trifecta of masterpieces United We Laugh, The Koshertarian Comedians and Waste Of Height, Really Short Stories, if he can’t find a lit agent or NY based editor who doesn’t feel compelled to bow at the altar of World Cup worship and swelling displays of national pride since the day Democracy died. I rhyme funny too.

Your friends will love me in cocktail parties in Manhattan, guaranteed. United Laugh is a comedic showcase of jokes and imagined scenes post COVID damage done as the never-ending shit show rolls on. I’ve recorded and starred on 136 comedy records on SoundCloud over the past 14 months such as Stab The Clown, Lapping Losers and Do It All Dad Does China. John Lennon wished he was this productive during his stay-at-home dad years.

I think you’d be a strong champion of United We Laugh, because you produce titles with sardonic, fatalistic feeling such as HOW TO STAY PRODUCTIVE WHEN THE WORLD IS ENDING.

United We Laugh is my victory lap. Help me make my Do It All Dad Year come true. Carlin and Lenny Bruce would’ve called out bullshit to voting still mattering and certainly wouldn’t take the fake news vaccine, especially if the open borders Pope promoted it despite all the fentanyl snuck in through our borderless borders being responsible for killing more crackers in this country than Taylor Swift kicking it with Lena Dunham on Instagram. Doctors at Weill Cornell even laugh at that one and they push operation death speed to save the children from the made in Wuhan virus without batting an eye.

According to my SoundCloud stats, I’m huge in Lahore Pakistan and Brazil too. Wordcount for United We Laugh is 120,000 words. You want to sell a pop culture book that actually matters, that was made for these times? You got it. Let’s break the Internet together. Trumpy Poo Tits won’t know what hit him, Groping Biden included.

All My Best,

Michael Kornbluth

Short Lived Nirvana

I dislike any rock journalist or cultural critic who still lives in Portland, Oregon or in Seattle, Washington, ANTIFA apartheid represent. Especially those intent on selling us why Kurt Cobain was destined to become another rock casualty cliche due to a stomach irritation aggravated from too much soy. But at the height of his popularity, with all the f-you money in the world to avoid touring if he wanted to, after becoming a proud, doting father no less, Kurt Cobain wanted to pull an Ernest Hemingway after his shotgun marriage to sloppy seconds hole? Because Kurt Cobain couldn’t bear the burden of being branded as the voice of Generation X by Kurt Loder, when Sonic Youth had less brand name recognition on MTV than the Fine Young Cannibals or Midnight Oil throughout the early nineties for that matter?

Kurt Cobain admitted that their records sounded closer to Motley Crue records than punk rock ones, which doesn’t make him sound like the overgrown kid in the Jermey video on the verge off blowing his brains out over his Trapper Keeper in AP Bio either.

And Kurt Cobain killing himself at 27 no less, which is when Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison died from accidental overdoses is too cliche ridden planned for a rock star who raided his dead grandma’s closet for her most unflattering, wool sweater to sport on MTV Unplugged.

In the song In Bloom, Kurt Cobain sneered at meathead jocks with hardcore sardonic disdain, more likely to be first in line to see the Foo Fighters play the first MSG show post pandemic for the privilege of seeing big pharma sell out shill Dave Grohl perform in front of a vaccinated only crowd, to mark another monotone milestone through their edgeless, ever long lives. Yet were supposed to believe Kurt Cobain would give those same homophobe faggots in University of Maryland hats, who like to sing along to his “pretty songs”, the satisfaction of killing off his legacy as being the most kick ass, wildly popular non-conformist artist of his generation by proving to be another unoriginal, poser artist burnout tale of premature, blatantly avoidable ruin on VH1 Behind the Music like the rest. Yeah, and Eddie Vedder met his smoking hot second wife at a lesbo coffee shop in Seattle for slam toxic masculinity night.

All I’m saying is that Kurt Cobain was not one to do cliche, outside of doing his best Sid and Nancy impersonation with Courtney Love for a bit. And in the end, his overhyped stomach pains cited as the main driving force behind blowing his brains out after framing his vision of becoming a middle-aged junkie artist like a modern-day William Boroughs to Courtney Love as an easily attainable goal to shoot for, has been blown way out of proportion, like the working effectiveness of COVID 19 vaccination shot, which works less than an Alice and Chains cover band today at BYU, with Mitt Romney in town.

Personally, I love the Courtney Love Hole album, Live Through This, even more than Nevermind, even if ex-boyfriend Billy Corgan penned the lion share of her monster lyrics on it like, “I shit my bed from doing too much H, so I might as well die in it.” Plus, I can’t hate someone who called Linda Sarsour a fake news feminist who had no business attending the Woman’s March on Washington because of the Palestinian freedom fighter’s support of clitoral mutilation to ensure Muslim housewives receive zero pleasure on earth before being stoned to death for the crime of being spotted in their full-length Burkas in Sex and The City 2. So, if siding with Courtney Love for calling Linda Sarsour a fake feminist, makes me alt-right, then I’m alright with it. Challah, thank you very much.

Truth is, Kurt Cobain wouldn’t be caught dead in Starbucks if his Sonic Youth record collection was riding on it. So, I don’t buy Kurt Cobain feeding into the packaged brand of brooding depressive consumerism by killing himself at the height of his popularity who caused a bigger eruption in Courtney’s Love pants than Eddie Van Halen ever did. Nor do I buy into the forced fed, media manipulated assertion that Kurt Cobain was too much of a gun-shy pussy to persist rocking in a hyper focused Internet world of do or die capitalism man. A victimized Twitter Twat, he wasn’t it, “Here we are now, entertain us, I feel stupid and contagious because I shared a needle with Magic Johnson’s number one groupie in Seattle.”

Last, did you know Kurt Cobain predicted that an outsider who never worked in politics could become President of the United States like Trump one day? Ok, so maybe Kurt Cobain killed himself for a reason, knowing that the eventual advent of social media would unearth the A Plus narcissist in us all. Neither Republicans nor Democrats have a monopoly on messianic right, God does. The sooner were all able to unite around that absolute truth of one love, under one God, who knows when you’re being an insufferable, know it all twat, on the alleged right side of ethical moralism, the better.

Shit, at least I’m self-aware enough to proclaim Jesus doesn’t want me for a sunbeam yet. But thank God, I still have time to seek absolution for being the biggest prick in the east, since Alec Baldwin admits no fault for acting like an all-over the place Jew since he quit self-medicating by getting loaded. Short lived Nirvana lives, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Burning Burnouts

I stopped taking weed edibles because I got tired of feeling like a moron while trying to answer my daughter’s questions that were keeping her up, after I thought she was asleep already. Edibles kick in, Daughter asks, “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. Daughter says, “Keep on doing edibles daddy. Thanks for making me an Atheist at 4.”

Pothead dad texts, “You got to see Jurassic Park 3, Jeff Goldblum.” I text back, “Why, because your wife told you to follow fake news scientists on Twitter like Dr. Gnocchi. After you gave your kid clot shots to prevent them from catching an itchy esophagus. Let me guess, you got your wife pregnant because you got stoned and forgot to ask her if she was on the morning after pill? Join the club. Actually, had a pothead friend in college who had a Production Assistant job on the Universal lot. So, we’d sneak into Universal Studios through the parking lot into the Jurassic Park ride all the time. At the same time, this was before California became a giant tent city sponsored by REI. We didn’t have to show ID or a wrist band to enter the park once we snuck in through the Jurassic Park ride through the parking lot. Today, we wouldn’t have to show proof of vaccination if we had a good tan holmes. It’s not as if Universal Studio’s was giving away free parking passes so anybody under the sun could enjoy all the rides for free. California Democrats didn’t have to steal elections and woo new voters in broad daylight just yet, those were the days. When Spielberg’s daughter didn’t do porn to keep up with Kim Kardashian. I know, she’s studying to become a social justice lawyer now. Social Justice Lawyers are so hot right now. Hot enough to snag Pete Davidson in his prime who looks like Annie Leibowitz and Barney from the Simpsons had a baby. The voice of Generation Z, the boy toy king of Staten Island shouldn’t get burnt out on pimping for Big Pharma by shaming clot shot resistors on SNL for a living. So, what difference does burning burnouts make? Burning Burnouts, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Sex Ed South Park

Exposed my 3 kids to South Park last night. We watched the 1-hour COVID special. I can’t take that hour back. After Randy bangs out another load. Daughter asks, “Why is Randy is so drained daddy?” I said, “Remember when I told you how my DNA is all over your face? Remember the time when you asked me, “Daddy, what do you do after tucking me in? And said, “I squeeze in 5 minutes of me time alright.” Well, Randy is running on empty because he’s strangling his life shooter to death because his DNA imprint is being blasted on all his batches of weed to counteract COVID symptoms caused from him banging that bat made in Wuhan, remember? At the same time, anyone would be drained dry after squeezing a village worth of love juice out like Brett Michaels did on the front leg of Poison’s Open Up and Up Say Ah tour in Toledo, Ohio considering the preponderance of big ten beauties on top.” South Park lives, Challah, thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Last Licks Lasting

How do you fuck with your Atheist wife? Be serious about expressing your desire to adopt a kid with Down Syndrome. But they can die at 40 from cancer. Athletes are dying from the clot shot in their twenties now. So, 40 is the new 90 really babe. Plus, your username on the Peloton is Flowers and Babies. Shouldn’t all kids enveloped in our circle of love in our comedy estate home come up roses in your eyes? You work in the NICU checking for vital signs. All I check for is for retweets. You want me to prove I’m not an A Plus Narcissist and break the curse of my family tradition. Then this is it. Huey Lewis and the News live, Challah. Thank you very much. Although leave it to Uncle John, AKA Sir Snort A Lot to contaminate our air of holiness at home, the one time he offers our adopted son with Down Syndrome some blow and says, “You don’t always have to be down kid.” But who’s going to look after him? You still don’t have a job. He’ll help me sell my new gum invention Hop-O-Rama Chew. Who’s going to say no to a kid with Down Syndrome? What, I want to disrupt the job market for young adults with Down Syndrome. Most kids with Down Syndrome are highly creative. Plus, they possess highly developed senses of humor like Phil Rosenthal’s cousin in Somebody Feed Phil or the guy in Something About Mary. And who could resist our adopted kid with Down Syndrome going to door to door in Brooklyn selling Hop flavored gum to overweight Stay At Home hipster dads who identify more with Lena Dunham since she morphed into the Hunchback of Bushwick during Restaurant Week? We can call him Zevon Zappa Kornbluth, which gives him immediate hipster cred after he introduces himself and some immediate breathing room to pitch. I want to out Hipster the shit out of these guys. Door to door sales would do wonders for this kid’s self-esteem. At the same time, nobody is slamming a door on a kid’s face with Down Syndrome, especially if he’s blowing the biggest bubble, you’ve ever seen while holding up tape recorder that plays our pre-recorded radio jingle for Hop-O-Roma Chew. Blow your blues with away some Hop-O-Rama Chew. Our bubbles are easy to blow. Even kids with Down Syndrome can blow big bubbles while chewing on a daily nugget of wisdom wrapped inside each burst of bright-eyed flavor inside.  Hop-O-Rama Swami says, “Beer Bellies give self-love a bad name. And Sarah Palin is better than you. So, add some extra bounce to your step with some Hop-O-Rama Chew.”

“Also, your best friend Sara will feel like a more self-involved narcissist for only having one kid versus our 3 plus one adopted one with Down Syndrome. And our 4th kid being an adopted one with Down Syndrome would really piss my parents off. Just think of what a big deal they made about putting up a pool fence. But I don’t view a kid with Down Syndrome as an eye sore but as angel light and their laughs are the purest. Plus, when a kid with Down Syndrome smiles it could light up a youth hostel in a no-go zone area in Germany with no-WI Fi during the Chinese planted plague made in Wuhan delivered through remote controlled drone bats, next day delivery. Supply Chain problem solved because everyone will be dead. So, what difference does it make? Except that our best of 4 worlds family, that being all 4 kids, because were not family without them, will be able to bask in some angel light before the never-ending shit show goes up in flames. As we sing in a beautiful, truthfully tuneful harmony, “It’s the end of the world, and we know it, and I feel fine. Because Samuel needs a younger brother to look after. And denying him the opportunity to be the biggest hearted big brother ever would really blow more than being denied the chance to see if your mother would terminate her Nazi dog Heidi over a more playtime consideration with her grandchild with Down Syndrome. Will see how God blessed she’ll act in the face of our new kid with Down Syndrome who will do abortion jokes in my honor over Christmas. One kid only means your diaphragm is for walls after all Baba. Plus, how could I ever be sad in the presence of Dad? Funnier dad, happier baby. Thanks Dad. For giving me the confidence to do more than dig ditches for non-biodegradable masks at McDonald’s before the never-ending shit show goes up in flames. Burning Mask Party return, 121 comedy records later, Challah. Thanks for the laughs, Dad, very, very much.

Michael Kornbluth