Gender Fluid Pink Ziti

If identifying myself as Gender Fluid will increase my chances of getting a job interview for a paid remote writer position, then I have no problem filling out that hole. Why not write myself a starring part in a modern update remake of Tootsie, except instead of an out of work actor dressing up like a woman to get work, I’ll play a Gender Fluid blogger who dresses up like Bobby Doll from Poison for Zoom calls based on his make up complexion on the record cover Look What The Cat Dragged In? I’ve also been a stay at home dad and our in-house gourmand chef for my 3 kids much longer than your typical paid time off maternity period. So I’m more than accustomed to my nurse wife treating me like her gimpy, bitchy underling for sometime actually, the way weapons maestro maker Destro would constantly belittle Cobra Commander’s commanding heft or leadership authority of the Crimson Twins, relegating them to nothing more than, “Overrated, Trust Fund Terrorist Babies.”

Stay At Home Dads, regardless if they more than 800 followers on their WordPress blog or not, are more than used to subduing their urge to dominate a conversation and play the role of submissive puss next time the subject of whether stay at home mom’s should get paid because they’re not fake feminists who suffer from severe egotism as much either.

So now for the million dollar question, how you can make baked ziti at home for your kids while in the process of making it feel more manly about doing it? Easy, make gender fluid pink ziti. Wear out the pseudo feminent label on your rolled up button Ted Baker sleeve or live the remainder of your life scared of being outed as a shishy bitch enricher. Also, get extra flamboyant with your presentation and announce to the world in a loud and proud fashion, ” Blanket your Baked Ziti with herbed Rosemary bitches. It’s only Alice Water’s favorite herb, which she told Bill Maher on Real Time once. Oh, that’s right, only gay guys know the names of brand name female chefs, my bad.”

Using an excessive preponderance of over the top spreading of ricotta in your gender fluid pink ziti, doesn’t make the preparation of making this old school Italian classic, make you feel anymore rough and tumble manly, that’s for sure. I’d also refrain from considering the subbing the use of cream to add that pinkish, alluring glow, in favor of using Coconut Milk, if sticking with the Koshertarian Diet to please God isn’t a predominant consideration if you decided to throw meh diced up chicken bits of protein in there either.

Frying up some peeled off bits of garlic, diced fine bits of shallot in butter and virgin, cold pressed olive oil, interspersed with cut off specs of rosemary dust before plopping the pre-made Rao’s marinara sauce, doesn’t make you feel like Rocky pulling Pauli in a sled during his training sequence in Rocky 4 either.

Using locally sourced pecorino from Yonkers, DMX’s hometown, adds some salty, hardcore edge to your overall gender fluid baked ziti presentation but not nearly as much as you’d think. It’s getting pretty hot pink in here, I thought while revealing my gender fluid pink ziti, which my family inhaled with scrumptious glee. So if making delectable pink gender fluid ziti, makes it hellish hot up in here, so be it. The endless sporadic Mmmms, were worth losing whatever masculine edge I have left.

Michael Kornbluth

4 Jews Enter A Greek Temple

Gimmel, a high school wrestling star for Jerusalem High, turned professional Bookie for the Maccabees stands in prayer, lip synching some horse-shit prayer in honor of some half horse, half man freak Centaur, who also happens to be hung like an Arabian. Shin, the local tailor, adjusts his fancy schmancy Tallis like a stressed-out Rodney bombing with new material at Dangerfield’s and says, “Gimmel, have you ever been Hellenized? Because you know I have. How else do you explain my fear of getting electrocuted to death since Zeus jammed a thunderbolt up my wife’s snatch because she called the Goddess of Wisdom Athena, fake news deep compared to the Lord, our God, not the God of Loud Rain.” Gimmel elbows Shin in stomach and says, “Stop making me laugh Shin, you’ll arouse the wrath of Gelos, the personification of laughter, because despite his Greek God status, he isn’t endowed with the funny Jew bone to bang out room shaking laughter with either. Nun, a Kosher winemaker enters the Greek Temple after wining and dining a Greek senator who threatened to take over his family winery if he didn’t erect a marble sculpture fountain of Dionysus, connected to underground barrels of pricy Cabernet Sauvignon, which spill out of his golden chalice cup every other 2 seconds. Nun spots his friends Shin and Gimmel whispering to each other, lip synching up close near the holy side of the Greek Temple where the Golden Menorah used to light up the 2nd Temple before Antiochus took over after Alexander The Great died and turned the Second Temple into a headshop for Greek Gods, where they now sell bundles of Incense Sticks for 5 shekels and a gram of Hashish. What a country, Judea had become.

Nun lines up next to friends, Shin and Gimmel, engaging in fake news Greek God prayer and whispers to his old school Jerusalem High wrestling buds, “What are you 2 doing here again? You’ll get crucified if the Greek priests overhear you kvetching about you having zero interest in worshiping Pan the Goat Boy during the never-ending 2nd Temple period. But you have to bitch because we already paid our synagogue dues before King Antiochus turned our JCC gymnasium into a members only gay bathhouse for Greek senators to bask in endless leisure, admiring each other’s flappy rounds of mound. ”

Hey, the Kosher Dairy Farmer, enters the Greek Temple with a Chalef knife, whose incredibly sharp edge ensures a painless, Torah commanded, gentle as can be death for cows later converted into Brisket stew. The Negev Desert sun glares through the newly refurbished stain glass window designs of nymphs playing tug of war with Hercules cock.  But this blast of holy powered light nearly blinds the Greek Priest leading the service as the Negev desert light bounces off Hey’s Chalef butcher knife and refracts into his Greek God loving eyes. Which I’m sure reminds the Greek Priest of the time he wanted to poke his eyes out after getting black out drunk from a 3-day Theatre Festival in Athens, only to wake up next to Medusa’s sister, who rapes drunk, Greek Priests at will because in her presence, black out drunk or not, you become automatically frozen stiff.  As the Greek Priest rubs his eyes in extreme agony, Hey, The Kosher Dairy Farmer, with his Chalef knife held high in the air, yells, “Maccabees rule. We’re the chosen people for a reason bitches.”

8 days later, the magnificent band of Maccabee warrior brothers reclaimed the Greek Temple and turned into the grand 2nd Temple of old, without barely breaking a sweat, because the Lord was on their side. I bet you 8 million Shekels Hermes ran for the hills away from Zion, as fast as he could, refusing to give Zeus that message. Happy Hanukkah!

Michael Kornbluth

We Didn’t Start The Fire Billy

 

Vice President Mike Pence talking shit about Obama’s trade record during a campaign trip at a glass manufacturing company in Pennsylvania. VP Mike Pence says, “Obama presided over the most expansive outsourcing of manufacturing jobs in US history. He made W look like a serial slacker, with his feet hoisted high on the Oval Office Desk, kicking it, sipping more Coconut Water, without sweating your ability to put more God blessed pot roast on the table. Not even Billy Joel cared enough about your lost jobs during the Obama outsourcing era, to mine another gold record out of your easily avoidable misery for Christ sake. Sorry Lord, even Ned Flanders loses his cool from time to time. Billy says he’s not a big fan of President Trump, but Billy Joel’s Greatest Hits was lullaby music for 80’s Republicans. Plus, there weren’t just bused in new age Neo Nazi’s from Central Casting in Charlottesville that day but also peaceful protesters protesting the taking down of a statue of Robert E Lee, in addition to agitators from ANTIFA, who aren’t very fine people, in the mythical made up sense or not. Last, how does a member of ANTIFA respect thy mother on Mother’s Day exactly? Take out the trash and move out of her house for good? I thought New Yorkers like Billy Joel had stronger bull-crap detection abilities than this. Or is Billy from Yenta Breath Country in Long Island? And to quote the wise, God loving, Robert E. Lee, “There are few, I believe, in this enlightened age, who will not acknowledge that slavery as an institution is a moral and political evil.” So why don’t you be good American Billy and shine those lights on Broadway on how Fake News has become the moral and political evil of its day? Call yourself an Uber home, because I’m assuming your license is suspended, despite New York State giving them away for free to Illegal Aliens so the radical left can try to steal another election and make Michelle proud her of her country again, God forbid. Sorry again Lord, the Fakes News Media makes it hard to turn the other cheek. In honor of the great Kid Rock, can I get an Amen? I say, Amen.

Michael Kornbluth

We Didn’t Start The Fire Billy

Vice President Mike Pence talking shit about Obama’s trade record during a campaign trip at a glass manufacturing company in Pennsylvania. VP Mike Pence says, “Obama presided over the most expansive outsourcing of manufacturing jobs in US history. He made W look like a serial slacker, with his feet hoisted high on the Oval Office Desk, kicking it, sipping more Coconut Water, without sweating your ability to put more God blessed pot roast on the table. Not even Billy Joel cared enough about your lost jobs during the Obama outsourcing era, to mine another gold record out of your easily avoidable misery for Christ sake. Sorry Lord, even Ned Flanders loses his cool from time to time. Billy says he’s not a big fan of President Trump, but Billy Joel’s Greatest Hits was lullaby music for 80’s Republicans. Plus, there weren’t just bused in new age Neo Nazi’s from Central Casting in Charlottesville that day but also peaceful protesters protesting the taking down of a statue of Robert E Lee, in addition to agitators from ANTIFA, who aren’t very fine people, in the mythical made up sense or not. Last, how does a member of ANTIFA respect thy mother on Mother’s Day exactly? Take out the trash and move out of her house for good? I thought New Yorkers like Billy Joel had stronger bull-crap detection abilities than this. Or is Billy from Yenta Breath Country in Long Island? And to quote the wise, God loving, Robert E. Lee, “There are few, I believe, in this enlightened age, who will not acknowledge that slavery as an institution is a moral and political evil.” So why don’t you be good American Billy and shine those lights on Broadway on how Fake News has become the moral and political evil of its day? Call yourself an Uber home, because I’m assuming your license is suspended, despite New York State giving them away for free to Illegal Aliens so the radical left can try to steal another election and make Michelle proud her of her country again, God forbid. Sorry again Lord, the Fakes News Media makes it hard to turn the other cheek. In honor of the great Kid Rock, can I get an Amen? I say, Amen.

Michael Kornbluth

Rock and Roll Ain’t Shit Without AC/DC

Rock and Roll ain’t shit without AC/DC and unlike Chuck Berry, legendary howling front man legends Bon Scott and the best picker upper follower up all time and it’s not even close, Brian Johnson, no offense Sammy Hagar, never put a camera in the girl’s room, to spy on new pubescent trim to break in at their restaurant to get a big Kansas City T Bone Special of her own. AC/DC is also Rick Rubin’s favorite band, and he’s the less cagier, earthier, hip hop hipper machine pop culture tectonic shifter shaper equivalent of Phil Spector minus the amazing made for HBO movie about the Ronettes loving, teenager in love soundtrack penning producer legend, gold record shitting Phil Spector, who for some reason decided to chuck it all for a C- bit never was actress, whose big break screen credit was playing the Amazon on The Moon extra 5000. I digress, but Brian Johnson the rip roaring shredding leader singer of AC/DC on Back In Black can no longer perform live because all of his pitch perfect, cannon ball powered shriek blasting for God knows how long has made him borderline deaf. Now all he hears God willing, is Hells Bells.

Michael Kornbluth

 

Dr. Seuss Is Tony Robins For Kids

Dr. Seuss wasn’t racist. He’s guilty of peaking early.  But now Dr. Seuss is considered racist since an uppity, NPR devotee librarian from Boston returned  a bunch of Dr. Seuss books donated by the 1st lady, despite JFK being the one who told Frank to disinvite Sammy Davis to his inauguration ball. Plus, Trump passed prison reform, which affects mostly men of color and breaks bread with Jim Brown, whose spent the majority of his post playing career reforming gang banger browns.

The resistor librarian claims Dr. Seuss’s illustrations are steeped in harmful stereotypes. Well, like the Lorax, I speak for the trees, when I tell her to stick with scanning books for a living  because this bitter cat lady is full of ca ca and smells like peepee.

Dr. Seuss drew a picture a topless African in a grass shirt, whoopty-freakin-do. I didn’t know Fubu was in fashion yet. But Dr. Seuss has to be racist. Only 2 percent of the characters in Dr. Seuss books were people of color. What about red, blue fish, gefilte fish? Why not complain about all the greedy, stubby, hooked nosed, Goblin Bankers in Harry Potter? You’d think Mel Gibson was the set designer on the flick.

Last, Dr. Seuss was the Tony Robins for kids, inspiring millions of kids to believe in their dreams even if they felt like their hopes were falling apart at the seams.  Dr. Seuss was right, there is fun to be done and and games to win, success is for the taking, just stop playing the victim and chuck your tablet into the trash bin.

Michael Kornbluth

 

The Sweaty Sex Period

All of my 3 kids are sweet around each most of the time, because they’re all beneficiaries of attachment parenting, which is turning your bed into a 24/7 open milk bar for the foreseeable future. Which isn’t the biggest deal in the world, knowing my sweaty sex period with my girlfriend now wife, only lasted one month max anyway. When our bang, bang bed actually bounced off the ground, defying all laws of gravity, considering my perpetual poundage of her snugger snatch of yesteryear.

 

Michael Kornbluth