The Wishing Well Architect

Art Show USA was no ordinary Wishing Well Architect. He designed a Wishing Well for Bill Gate’s daughter after buying her a horse farm in North Salem, NY only to clog it on purpose with Planned Parenthood brochures in honor of his former CEO dad for making such a splash as a baby part reseller on the open market. Otherwise known by pro-life activist groups as the Million Dollar Fetus Flicker Man.  

Art Show USA was a perfectionist artist. His Do It All Dad Michael Kornbluth, now a famous comedian author with a standup residency at MGM Grand in Las Vegas, would always encourage his son’s inborn artistic flair yet all his gorgeous, pitch perfect son would hear afterwards in semi-kidding fashion, “So you think I suck because.”

Every student teacher evaluation for Art Show USA was a pure joy to receive for his Do It All Dad because he got an extreme kick out of some teachers like his 1st grade one Mrs. Rudolph, who would bemoan in a begrudgingly, huffy manner, “We all know Arthur is a great artist”, only to rub in the harsh fact that teachers teach and birth less talented offspring for a reason.  

Do It All Dad always pounded into his eldest son’s cranium, “Art sells baby”, which always stayed with Art Show because he was haunted by early memories of his mom threatening to divorce his Dad if he wrote one more book and didn’t get a job at Trader Joe’s in Danbury, CT. So, his Dad doubled down on himself and wrote not one but 2 more books, without advertising the fact to his wife until he scored a Lit Agent in Israel with his book The Koshertarian Comedian and the rest is star studded history.  

Art Show made his 1st million from a lucrative birdhouse making business called, “Bird Baller Cribs” from only taking one woodworking class prior. He sold them at various Farmer’s Markets throughout Brooklyn, Manhattan, Woodstock and in Kingston, NY while his mother sold flowers with Art Show’s big sister from their new estate farm in North Salem, calling her Flower Truck, “Green Thumb Girl.”  Do It All Dad’s favorite birdhouse creation was his Kiss themed one that rocked a giant shaped bed similar to the one lead singer and main songwriter Paul Stanley lies on amidst an endless sprawl of busty, blond beauties in his Kiss lair in Beverly Hills, I’m assuming. Although the best part of this birdhouse creation was the giant Gene Simmons tongue extension bird feeding line, containing a sprinkling of some homemade CBD oil marinated granola, as more high-flying Blue Jays and Cardinals, licked it up, oh, oh, oh.  

Art Show USA cares plenty about Wishing Wells because ever since he could remember, he’d wish for his Do It All Dad’s books to succeed because, “Art sells baby.” The new and improved wish after his Daddy finally scored a lit agent, started his standup residency in Vegas and got into SAG for a film to co-star in with Russell Brand and Vince Vaughn called Too Tall Comedians, was for his dad to finally part with his precious time release Adderall, despite his claims of writing like a Jewish angel on the stuff. Reality is, Do It All Dad was an incredibly fast talking New Yorker to begin with, even on high grade weed. So he didn’t require any speedy thought enhancement, ever.

On Do It All Dad’s 45th birthday in Woodstock, NY he took a mini hike in the wood with his son Art Show USA only to bump into a wishing well along the way. Do It All Dad gave his son a customary quarter to make a wish with, although this time he wished his Dad would become convinced he’d become a bigtime author comedian success on or off the stuff period. Plus, he knew his Daddy off Adderall would focus less on how annoying mom can be with her phone during Adam Sandler Appreciation Night at home again and again.  Daddy was better off writing all day, performing at night and taking some weed edibles or a celebratory puff from his cherished green in addition to an IPA or 2, after another highly rewarding day at the office for making the most of his God given gift of comedic song.  

Art Show USA’s latest and greatest Wishing Well creation was made in Central Park near the Great Lawn, in the big city, the place of his birth like Do It Dad before him, which they both derived tremendous localtarian pride from, knowing the Island of Manhattan is what dreams of doer topper success are made of. The Wishing Well was named Do It All Dad Dumper, a tad longwinded name, even for Do It All Dad’s tastes. Still, the symbolic heft of this name wasn’t lost on the New York adoring public, especially after the Today Show did an unveiling of Do It All Dad Dumper, where a line of Do It All Dad’s followed Do It All Dad’s lead and dumped whatever pill, powder, drink or strain of dumb, dumb weed they felt was preventing them from flying high off their kid’s glorious presence alone.

Do It All Dad beamed with endless nachas, pride in Yiddish, derived from the reflective successful glow emanating from offspring, who stems from your Do It All Dad tree trunk. Do It All Dad picks up his son with excitable boy glee and gives him a 360 airplane spin for old times sake, despite Art Show being 6 foot 5 now and 20 years old. Art Show USA shrieks for untapped joy like he was 7 again. Do It All Dad continues to spin and says, “Teenager in love is all grownz up and he’s all grownz up. Are you too special to be real? Are you too special to be real?” Art Show USA shrieks with more love blasting joy and says with pitch perfect comedic timing, “Are you saying I suck because? Do It All Dad laughs longtime, wishing even his worst enemies got to experience Do It All Dad bliss like this.

The End

Michael Kornbluth

The Wishing Well Architect

Art Show USA was no ordinary Wishing Well Architect. He designed a Wishing Well for Bill Gate’s daughter after buying her a horse farm in North Salem, NY only to clog it on purpose with Planned Parenthood brochures in honor of his former CEO dad for making such a splash as a baby part reseller on the open market. Otherwise known by pro-life activist groups as the Million Dollar Fetus Flicker Man.  

Art Show USA was a perfectionist artist. His Do It All Dad Michael Kornbluth, now a famous comedian author with a standup residency at MGM Grand in Las Vegas, would always encourage his son’s inborn artistic flair yet all his gorgeous, pitch perfect son would hear afterwards in semi-kidding fashion, “So you think I suck because.”

Every student teacher evaluation for Art Show USA was a pure joy to receive for his Do It All Dad because he got an extreme kick out of some teachers like his 1st grade one Mrs. Rudolph, who would bemoan in a begrudgingly, huffy manner, “We all know Arthur is a great artist”, only to rub in the harsh fact that teachers teach and birth less talented offspring for a reason.  

Do It All Dad always pounded into his eldest son’s cranium, “Art sells baby”, which always stayed with Art Show because he was haunted by early memories of his mom threatening to divorce his Dad if he wrote one more book and didn’t get a job at Trader Joe’s in Danbury, CT. So, his Dad doubled down on himself and wrote not one but 2 more books, without advertising the fact to his wife until he scored a Lit Agent in Israel with his book The Koshertarian Comedian and the rest is star studded history.  

Art Show made his 1st million from a lucrative birdhouse making business called, “Bird Baller Cribs” from only taking one woodworking class prior. He sold them at various Farmer’s Markets throughout Brooklyn, Manhattan, Woodstock and in Kingston, NY while his mother sold flowers with Art Show’s big sister from their new estate farm in North Salem, calling her Flower Truck, “Green Thumb Girl.”  Do It All Dad’s favorite birdhouse creation was his Kiss themed one that rocked a giant shaped bed similar to the one lead singer and main songwriter Paul Stanley lies on amidst an endless sprawl of busty, blond beauties in his Kiss lair in Beverly Hills, I’m assuming. Although the best part of this birdhouse creation was the giant Gene Simmons tongue extension bird feeding line, containing a sprinkling of some homemade CBD oil marinated granola, as more high-flying Blue Jays and Cardinals, licked it up, oh, oh, oh.  

Art Show USA cares plenty about Wishing Wells because ever since he could remember, he’d wish for his Do It All Dad’s books to succeed because, “Art sells baby.” The new and improved wish after his Daddy finally scored a lit agent, started his standup residency in Vegas and got into SAG for a film to co-star in with Russell Brand and Vince Vaughn called Too Tall Comedians, was for his dad to finally part with his precious time release Adderall, despite his claims of writing like a Jewish angel on the stuff. Reality is, Do It All Dad was an incredibly fast talking New Yorker to begin with, even on high grade weed. So he didn’t require any speedy thought enhancement, ever.

On Do It All Dad’s 45th birthday in Woodstock, NY he took a mini hike in the wood with his son Art Show USA only to bump into a wishing well along the way. Do It All Dad gave his son a customary quarter to make a wish with, although this time he wished his Dad would become convinced he’d become a bigtime author comedian success on or off the stuff period. Plus, he knew his Daddy off Adderall would focus less on how annoying mom can be with her phone during Adam Sandler Appreciation Night at home again and again.  Daddy was better off writing all day, performing at night and taking some weed edibles or a celebratory puff from his cherished green in addition to an IPA or 2, after another highly rewarding day at the office for making the most of his God given gift of comedic song.  

Art Show USA’s latest and greatest Wishing Well creation was made in Central Park near the Great Lawn, in the big city, the place of his birth like Do It Dad before him, which they both derived tremendous localtarian pride from, knowing the Island of Manhattan is what dreams of doer topper success are made of. The Wishing Well was named Do It All Dad Dumper, a tad longwinded name, even for Do It All Dad’s tastes. Still, the symbolic heft of this name wasn’t lost on the New York adoring public, especially after the Today Show did an unveiling of Do It All Dad Dumper, where a line of Do It All Dad’s followed Do It All Dad’s lead and dumped whatever pill, powder, drink or strain of dumb, dumb weed they felt was preventing them from flying high off their kid’s glorious presence alone.

Do It All Dad beamed with endless nachas, pride in Yiddish, derived from the reflective successful glow emanating from offspring, who stems from your Do It All Dad tree trunk. Do It All Dad picks up his son with excitable boy glee and gives him a 360 airplane spin for old times sake, despite Art Show being 6 foot 5 now and 20 years old. Art Show USA shrieks for untapped joy like he was 7 again. Do It All Dad continues to spin and says, “Teenager in love is all grownz up and he’s all grownz up. Are you too special to be real? Are you too special to be real?” Art Show USA shrieks with more love blasting joy and says with pitch perfect comedic timing, “Are you saying I suck because? Do It All Dad laughs longtime, wishing even his worst enemies got to experience Do It All Dad bliss like this.

The End

Michael Kornbluth

Pitchwoman Of The Year

Aliens are capable of formulating and defending their own critical race theory to. Although a bunch of Think Tank Alien Eggheads from Planet Scrambled Over Easy declared the American Dream dead and it’s entire race plain stupid for thinking otherwise, on both sides of the political divide during it’s annual Brunch Expo address at their annual Northern Lights retreat on Planet Verde, known for its enormous Avocados trees, tricked out converted farmhouse party palaces, enveloped by Hop Farms galore and beautifully manicured baseball diamonds and fields of highly stimulating, brain tickling weed. Even Think Tank Alien Eggheads need to cool off their hyperactive brains with some baseball, buds and brews from time to time.

The Think Tank Alien Eggheads observed how unhinged and excessively biased the US media and Big Tech had become since the New Yorker from Queens exposed them for the feckless, misleading, self-serving, fear mongering, deliberately divisive, commie sell out bastards they’d become.  Close Encounters Of The 3rd Kind”, was voted the number one ranked Sci Fi film for 44 years in a row and counting, according to Egghead Alien Film Review Magazine, which still boasts an incredible print ad sales revenue, because on Planet Scrambled Easy, print is king and considered the most prestigious medium, attracting the universe’s most talented writers knowing they’re willing to pay up to 3 US Dollars per word. Plus, there’s no TV shows made on Planet Scrambled Over Easy except a hugely popular father son alien cooking show, called, Better Than Boobie. On this show, we learn the alien baby is a result of a mixed marriage between an alien and a busty, full lipped, tan Sicilian blooded Italian Barbera Bustiasti, originally hailing from Rochester, NY. On the show, our Stay-At-Home Alien Dad Host, Fried Brains Bourdain, a self-anointed in-house gourmand for the entire Planet Scrambled Over Easy, will ask his part human part alien baby, Chef Samuels what he thinks of his latest and greatest LEO scramble supreme, including, smoked salmon lox, scrambled eggs and sweet, not too bitter caramelized red onions. Normally, Chef Samuels will take a taste and pronounce the dish creation a double fister instead of a yuck yucker. But if baby Chef Samuels is totally enthralled with the dish, he’ll ask his cherished Dada Fried Brains Bourdain, to make the dish for him every day before he whizzes around the rings of Planet Scrambled Over Easy faster than Flash, in a high calorie burning blaze of glory.  

So, the reason Planet Scrambled Eggs Over Easy was smitten with the movie Close Encounters Of The Third Kind stemmed from the aliens portrayed in it, being musical savant mutes of sorts like Holly Hunter in The Piano. The problem on Planet Scrambled Eggs Over Easy, is how their recent open borders policy resulted in a gazillion different languages spoken at once on any given Farmer’s Market enough to make C3po’s language transmitter chip to melt down from an intergalactic mere auditory sensory processing overload. So, the clamor in the streets had reached a fevered pitch, with no universal language in place, capable of instilling a more melodic cadence. And none of the star magazine writers on Planet Scrambled Over Easy were capable of banging out musical showtunes such as West Side Think Tank Alien Stories, because Broadway tunesmith legend Stephen Sondheim declined the invitation to procreate with the alien civilization because he was gayer about the prospect of lunging at Othello backstage in tights, whenever asked to do his best Kevin Spacy impersonation by his cast and crew at Sardis for wrap up show celebrations after hours. Stephen Sondheim gave the anal probe a shot after the Alien Think Tank Leader Gershwin Goo, convinced him they were doing it the name of stool DNA sampling science, in their long, hard, in depth exploration of pinpointing the exact genetic makeup roots responsible for sprouting such mature musical genius out the womb. At 6 Mozart was touring Europe, entertaining French nobles with the nimble quickness of a French Prostitute, who got 2 customers to spew with joy in 1 minute flat each, so she could squeeze in her favorite customer, famed American Jewish writer Henry Miller in one more before closing hours for the road.  

So not only was the roaring decibel of noise on the streets of Scrambled Eggs Over Easy, consisting of every guttural, gross Alien language imaginable, that collectively heard together sounded like the antithesis of French pillow talk in Eric Rohmer films such as Busted Burgundy Girls and Paris Dicks Are Burning. Thereby, making their home planet a highly grating, excessively annoying place to be, but there was also not a singe lone, beautifying voice to even sing their new planet anthem, in an attempt to promote, celebrate and unify the country behind a star beautiful voice in their own native tongue, Hebrew. What, you think the Pyramids and the 1st great temple were built by the Israelites alone? I’ve known Jews who are allergic to Home Depot, who suffer from immediate panic attacks upon entry.

On retreat, The Think Tank Aliens, sucking down endless IPA’s and puffing non-stop high grade green over a killer double header of baseball surrounding the Field Of Dreams Funhouse, a young, rising star egghead about to pitch his famous speedball splinter known to make most fellow Aliens whiff more than Charlie Sheen at an AVN after hours party these days, an idea emerged, “Hey, fellas, instead of blowing up the Planet Earth for our annual 4 of the July Celebration to celebrate our freedom banning the Internet in 2000, because we knew Y2K would serve as a slow acting bomb to blow up earth’s any last remaining capacity for critically thinking, mass produced independent thought ever again, we convince Matilda Singing Rose Kornbluth to become our permanent-in-house Planetary Anthem singer. Granted, we have incredible leverage knowing if she refuses, will go head and blow-up Earth for the best fireworks show, we’ve ever seen. Bulldozing a casino is child’s play compared to Planet blasting. Plus, I think the universe is ready for a new earth to emerge again, assuming God’s in the mood o give the human race another shot at redemption or not.”

The Think Tank Aliens of Scrambled Over Easy Planet actually thought of Singing Rose Kornbluth immediately, the moment they coined the idea of establishing a Planetary Anthem in Hebrew, from eavesdropping from space whenever she’d recite the Shabbat prayers over the candles, Challah and wine. To them, Singing Rose Kornbluth was blessed with the most angelic laced, beautifying, spiritually rich, jade free voice of all time, which sounded ten times more soul tantalizing pretty sung in Hebrew, which she’d do in Synagogue, shining through most, whenever the Torah was taken out of the arc for the infamous Shema prayer, “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.” Think Tank Aliens from Scrambled Over Easy Planet are able to eavesdrop into different galaxy systems due to their alien race, being crossbred with Alien Hybrid Elephants reared by Alexander The Great. Alexander The Great would use those elephants to eavesdrop on his enemies or on Cleopatra next time she plotted to roofie him, tie him up and jam some precious gemstone beads up his ass for shits and giggles to see if they came out looser since the last gender neutral interkingdom orgy at her Luxor party palace.

Now, Singing Rose Kornbluth is at home in her bedroom within the hamlet of Croton Falls, NY, 50 minutes north of Manhattan, brushing the mane on her new American Girl horse doll Lavender Love, singing her own made-up tune “Lavender Love has beautiful hair, my brother Arthur better not threaten to turn him into fake news dog chow, if baby Samuel double dares.” Then, the Palomino American Girl Doll horse Lavender Love comes to life and speaks to her from the baseball diamond on the Field Of Dreams Funhouse and says, “Singing Rose Kornbluth, don’t be alarmed. For starters, my voice can’t be any freakier than when you confuse your American Girl Doll Horse for an actual little person on occasion.” Singing Rose Kornbluth say, “Keep talking.”  Think Tank Alien says, “We think your singing voice, especially in Hebrew is the most beautiful, God loving, effortlessly sweet signing voice, we’ve ever heard, without any deep vibrato rumblings which ruin Adele and Demi Lovato’s chances as potential picks for us if you really need to know.” Singing Rose Kornbluth says, “And who is we exactly.” Think Tank Alien says, “Were Think Tank Aliens from Planet Scrambled Over Easy. Our natural tongue is Hebrew, and we just came up with our 1st ever Planetary Anthem and it needs work, because our alien civilization isn’t musically inclined whatsoever.” Singing Rose Kornbluth says, “Do all aliens talk through American Girl Horses? I know Aliens were real. Think Tank Alien says, “Singing Rose, we love your voice. God made your supernatural voice for a reason. Still, will be left with no choice but to blow up your planet, if you don’t let us use your gift of creation and singing love songs which touch the inner most sanctum part of the Divine.” Singing Rose Kornbluth says, “I’ll only help you out if you agree to take over control of our Internet, unleash virus worms to corrode all the software code for Twitter, Facebook and Google and fill in that gaping voice of Internet bandwidth with my father’s Do It All Dad Year Podcast every Friday for another Meandering Shabbat Shalom Special. My daddy is hilarious. He said, Beyonce sat out the national anthem because Demi Lovato sounds like white priveledge version of Alabama Shakes.” Think Tank Alien laughs long time and replies, “We don’t have the Internet on our planet.” Matilda says, “I’ll be your new best friend. And you’ll get one sleepover invite a year, deal? Think Taken Alien says, “Deal.”

1 year later, Singing Rose Kornbluth graced the cover of Time Magazine. On the top, the headline read, Pitchwoman Of The Year, who saved her country’s planet from being wiped off the Solar System for selling the Think Tank Aliens on making her Do It All Dad the most popular, downloadable, highly quotable Podcaster in the universe. So, he could afford the opportunity to shine like the brightest, rising comedy star in the galaxy and drive his family back from the hospital in his new Comedy Gold Porsche SUV with a new baby sister addition in the back, Lavender Love Kornbluth to make his Do It All Dad year mission complete. Now Singing Rose Kornbluth could sing duets with her new baby sister Lavender Love Kornbluth for a double dose of beautiful wonderfulness on Planet Scrambled Eggs Over Easy, so she’d never have to feel homesick again.

Michael Kornbluth

Pitchwoman Of The Year

Aliens are capable of formulating and defending their own critical race theory to. Although a bunch of Think Tank Alien Eggheads from Planet Scrambled Over Easy declared the American Dream dead and it’s entire race plain stupid for thinking otherwise, on both sides of the political divide during it’s annual Brunch Expo address at their annual Northern Lights retreat on Planet Verde, known for its enormous Avocados trees, tricked out converted farmhouse party palaces, enveloped by Hop Farms galore and beautifully manicured baseball diamonds and fields of highly stimulating, brain tickling weed. Even Think Tank Alien Eggheads need to cool off their hyperactive brains with some baseball, buds and brews from time to time.

The Think Tank Alien Eggheads observed how unhinged and excessively biased the US media and Big Tech had become since the New Yorker from Queens exposed them for the feckless, misleading, self-serving, fear mongering, deliberately divisive, commie sell out bastards they’d become.  Close Encounters Of The 3rd Kind”, was voted the number one ranked Sci Fi film for 44 years in a row and counting, according to Egghead Alien Film Review Magazine, which still boasts an incredible print ad sales revenue, because on Planet Scrambled Easy, print is king and considered the most prestigious medium, attracting the universe’s most talented writers knowing they’re willing to pay up to 3 US Dollars per word. Plus, there’s no TV shows made on Planet Scrambled Over Easy except a hugely popular father son alien cooking show, called, Better Than Boobie. On this show, we learn the alien baby is a result of a mixed marriage between an alien and a busty, full lipped, tan Sicilian blooded Italian Barbera Bustiasti, originally hailing from Rochester, NY. On the show, our Stay-At-Home Alien Dad Host, Fried Brains Bourdain, a self-anointed in-house gourmand for the entire Planet Scrambled Over Easy, will ask his part human part alien baby, Chef Samuels what he thinks of his latest and greatest LEO scramble supreme, including, smoked salmon lox, scrambled eggs and sweet, not too bitter caramelized red onions. Normally, Chef Samuels will take a taste and pronounce the dish creation a double fister instead of a yuck yucker. But if baby Chef Samuels is totally enthralled with the dish, he’ll ask his cherished Dada Fried Brains Bourdain, to make the dish for him every day before he whizzes around the rings of Planet Scrambled Over Easy faster than Flash, in a high calorie burning blaze of glory.  

So, the reason Planet Scrambled Eggs Over Easy was smitten with the movie Close Encounters Of The Third Kind stemmed from the aliens portrayed in it, being musical savant mutes of sorts like Holly Hunter in The Piano. The problem on Planet Scrambled Eggs Over Easy, is how their recent open borders policy resulted in a gazillion different languages spoken at once on any given Farmer’s Market enough to make C3po’s language transmitter chip to melt down from an intergalactic mere auditory sensory processing overload. So, the clamor in the streets had reached a fevered pitch, with no universal language in place, capable of instilling a more melodic cadence. And none of the star magazine writers on Planet Scrambled Over Easy were capable of banging out musical showtunes such as West Side Think Tank Alien Stories, because Broadway tunesmith legend Stephen Sondheim declined the invitation to procreate with the alien civilization because he was gayer about the prospect of lunging at Othello backstage in tights, whenever asked to do his best Kevin Spacy impersonation by his cast and crew at Sardis for wrap up show celebrations after hours. Stephen Sondheim gave the anal probe a shot after the Alien Think Tank Leader Gershwin Goo, convinced him they were doing it the name of stool DNA sampling science, in their long, hard, in depth exploration of pinpointing the exact genetic makeup roots responsible for sprouting such mature musical genius out the womb. At 6 Mozart was touring Europe, entertaining French nobles with the nimble quickness of a French Prostitute, who got 2 customers to spew with joy in 1 minute flat each, so she could squeeze in her favorite customer, famed American Jewish writer Henry Miller in one more before closing hours for the road.  

So not only was the roaring decibel of noise on the streets of Scrambled Eggs Over Easy, consisting of every guttural, gross Alien language imaginable, that collectively heard together sounded like the antithesis of French pillow talk in Eric Rohmer films such as Busted Burgundy Girls and Paris Dicks Are Burning. Thereby, making their home planet a highly grating, excessively annoying place to be, but there was also not a singe lone, beautifying voice to even sing their new planet anthem, in an attempt to promote, celebrate and unify the country behind a star beautiful voice in their own native tongue, Hebrew. What, you think the Pyramids and the 1st great temple were built by the Israelites alone? I’ve known Jews who are allergic to Home Depot, who suffer from immediate panic attacks upon entry.

On retreat, The Think Tank Aliens, sucking down endless IPA’s and puffing non-stop high grade green over a killer double header of baseball surrounding the Field Of Dreams Funhouse, a young, rising star egghead about to pitch his famous speedball splinter known to make most fellow Aliens whiff more than Charlie Sheen at an AVN after hours party these days, an idea emerged, “Hey, fellas, instead of blowing up the Planet Earth for our annual 4 of the July Celebration to celebrate our freedom banning the Internet in 2000, because we knew Y2K would serve as a slow acting bomb to blow up earth’s any last remaining capacity for critically thinking, mass produced independent thought ever again, we convince Matilda Singing Rose Kornbluth to become our permanent-in-house Planetary Anthem singer. Granted, we have incredible leverage knowing if she refuses, will go head and blow-up Earth for the best fireworks show, we’ve ever seen. Bulldozing a casino is child’s play compared to Planet blasting. Plus, I think the universe is ready for a new earth to emerge again, assuming God’s in the mood o give the human race another shot at redemption or not.”

The Think Tank Aliens of Scrambled Over Easy Planet actually thought of Singing Rose Kornbluth immediately, the moment they coined the idea of establishing a Planetary Anthem in Hebrew, from eavesdropping from space whenever she’d recite the Shabbat prayers over the candles, Challah and wine. To them, Singing Rose Kornbluth was blessed with the most angelic laced, beautifying, spiritually rich, jade free voice of all time, which sounded ten times more soul tantalizing pretty sung in Hebrew, which she’d do in Synagogue, shining through most, whenever the Torah was taken out of the arc for the infamous Shema prayer, “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.” Think Tank Aliens from Scrambled Over Easy Planet are able to eavesdrop into different galaxy systems due to their alien race, being crossbred with Alien Hybrid Elephants reared by Alexander The Great. Alexander The Great would use those elephants to eavesdrop on his enemies or on Cleopatra next time she plotted to roofie him, tie him up and jam some precious gemstone beads up his ass for shits and giggles to see if they came out looser since the last gender neutral interkingdom orgy at her Luxor party palace.

Now, Singing Rose Kornbluth is at home in her bedroom within the hamlet of Croton Falls, NY, 50 minutes north of Manhattan, brushing the mane on her new American Girl horse doll Lavender Love, singing her own made-up tune “Lavender Love has beautiful hair, my brother Arthur better not threaten to turn him into fake news dog chow, if baby Samuel double dares.” Then, the Palomino American Girl Doll horse Lavender Love comes to life and speaks to her from the baseball diamond on the Field Of Dreams Funhouse and says, “Singing Rose Kornbluth, don’t be alarmed. For starters, my voice can’t be any freakier than when you confuse your American Girl Doll Horse for an actual little person on occasion.” Singing Rose Kornbluth say, “Keep talking.”  Think Tank Alien says, “We think your singing voice, especially in Hebrew is the most beautiful, God loving, effortlessly sweet signing voice, we’ve ever heard, without any deep vibrato rumblings which ruin Adele and Demi Lovato’s chances as potential picks for us if you really need to know.” Singing Rose Kornbluth says, “And who is we exactly.” Think Tank Alien says, “Were Think Tank Aliens from Planet Scrambled Over Easy. Our natural tongue is Hebrew, and we just came up with our 1st ever Planetary Anthem and it needs work, because our alien civilization isn’t musically inclined whatsoever.” Singing Rose Kornbluth says, “Do all aliens talk through American Girl Horses? I know Aliens were real. Think Tank Alien says, “Singing Rose, we love your voice. God made your supernatural voice for a reason. Still, will be left with no choice but to blow up your planet, if you don’t let us use your gift of creation and singing love songs which touch the inner most sanctum part of the Divine.” Singing Rose Kornbluth says, “I’ll only help you out if you agree to take over control of our Internet, unleash virus worms to corrode all the software code for Twitter, Facebook and Google and fill in that gaping voice of Internet bandwidth with my father’s Do It All Dad Year Podcast every Friday for another Meandering Shabbat Shalom Special. My daddy is hilarious. He said, Beyonce sat out the national anthem because Demi Lovato sounds like white priveledge version of Alabama Shakes.” Think Tank Alien laughs long time and replies, “We don’t have the Internet on our planet.” Matilda says, “I’ll be your new best friend. And you’ll get one sleepover invite a year, deal? Think Taken Alien says, “Deal.”

1 year later, Singing Rose Kornbluth graced the cover of Time Magazine. On the top, the headline read, Pitchwoman Of The Year, who saved her country’s planet from being wiped off the Solar System for selling the Think Tank Aliens on making her Do It All Dad the most popular, downloadable, highly quotable Podcaster in the universe. So, he could afford the opportunity to shine like the brightest, rising comedy star in the galaxy and drive his family back from the hospital in his new Comedy Gold Porsche SUV with a new baby sister addition in the back, Lavender Love Kornbluth to make his Do It All Dad year mission complete. Now Singing Rose Kornbluth could sing duets with her new baby sister Lavender Love Kornbluth for a double dose of beautiful wonderfulness on Planet Scrambled Eggs Over Easy, so she’d never have to feel homesick again.

The End

Michael Kornbluth

The Metal Edge

The mother responsible for her son developing a near crippling neck condition that required corrective surgery at 2, called Torticollis, where the neck muscles contract causing the head to twist to one side as a result from too much newborn plopping time alone the crib, summoned the gaul to ask her son, whose about to turn 50 years old in his new Victorian Mansion home outside of Saratoga, NY lounging on a money Polo Lounge green Adirondack Chair, overlooking Lake George, “Why would you push your son into Fencing?” The Torticollis Survivor Son says, “Because the sport of fencing needs a metal edge. And your grandson, “Headbangers Baller is just the kid to do it. Plus, Christian Knights slayed Jews and Muslims for centuries because they didn’t wear crosses around their neck. So, it’s time to rock those Limey bastards on their ass like they just got hit by an American made Twister from Kansas City in the shape of Charlie Parker with the colossus wind power to match.  Bruce Dickenson, the lead singer of Iron Maiden is a championship fencer yet his nerdy hued, Dungeons and Dragons stylings are no match more for my son’s budding Headbanger Baller Edge. I want my son to be the most famous American fencer who ever lived, who graces the cover of Rolling Stone and Sports Illustrated all at the same time. I envision my son becoming the dreamy child offshoot of John Belushi, Charles Bukowski and Slash wrapped into one. He’ll shred every fencer record to pieces and tear more than his share of hymens in the process. Assuming he identifies with highly addictive heterosexuality puss plowing play. Force =Mass x Acceleration and becoming a world class championship shredder will make my son an indominable force within the business world when he opens his own hair metal shredder fencing line which will be recession proof, because we’re all going to be stuck wearing nappies on our face in post COVID universe gone wild till our last dying breath anyway.”

The Torticollis Survivor Son adds, “Fencing will be more popular in the US than Basketball and Baseball combined after Headbanger Baller Kornbluth adds windmill celebration dances with his fencing sword, throwing all that old school fencing decorum bullshit out the window. Plus, he’ll be loaded from commercial endorsements from the Guitar Store, Bose, Spandex R Us, you name it, so he could afford to pay any fine for inappropriate, hot dogging behavior whenever the flamboyant showboating moods strikes again.  Dana White will be inspired to go into the fencing business and make Headbanger Baller Kornbluth the face behind his new billion-dollar behemoth franchise, transforming Octagon rings into enormous steel cage fencing matches instead.  Instead of having Michael Buffer in a tux before Fencing matches, boom, “Let’s get ready to rumble”, Dana White will find the new Cherry Pie girl to announce, “Let the shredding begin”, while Kickstart My Heart by Motely Crue blares on the state-of-the-art surround sound speaker system that gives the steel cage tremors of impending despair. I’d push my son into becoming a WWE Wrestler for a living, yet there will never be another Andrew the Giant, nor is he 3rd generation wrestling royalty like the Rock or have a Canadian hockey player dad like Chris Jericho. So, why not become a big fish in far smaller pond, while making the most humongous splash possible? He also plays with collection of lightsabers now more than he does with his cherished Wrestling figures and he owns the original rubber dog toy size Hulk Hogan and Ricky The Dragon Steamboat among many others with vintage WWF wrestling ring I got off ebay to match. Kayne West is worth 6 billion, mostly from his fashion line of sneakers that sell for 1 grand and up ma yet there’s no limited, in demand fashion line for the flamboyant hair metal shredder in us all. I envision a flashing middle F-You, finger logo that’s sporting the inscription of a Kosher Chalef butcher knife on it that says, “Live To Shred”, to slap on his own line of silver spaceman sneakers, ripped jeans and shorts, obviously in every color imaginable except Slayer Reign In Blood Red.  He’ll have his own line of studded, belts, necklaces, metal cowboy hats and tang tops to show off his legions of groupies and adoring young male fans how his own line of core exercise work out videos involving jumping off box jumps through rings of fire as Moth Into Flame by Metallica plays at full blast, being responsible for his shredded physique once he steps into something more comfortable for post fencing fight interviews.  I want to feed my son’s love for speed. I want my son to maximize his inherent shredding edge like Buckethead, Randy Rhodes and Steve Vai for love of God, kickass metal guitar solo’s and for his metal loving American Dad who pushed him to shred for bread. On a less poetic, baser level, I want my son to be an all-American athlete who gets a fencing scholarship for being the most rollicking, flamboyant, fencing front man of all time while making the sport less overtly nerdy in the process.  I want him to be loved and feared like Sonny in the Bronx Tale mom. I want colleges to recruit him in junior high for fencing scholarships, so he can become a Headbanger Baller in life, instead of being a desperate flailing hounder. That’s why I’m pushing my son into Fencing mom.”

Mom says, “Your father thinks a team sport would be better for our grandson like Football for instance. The Torticollis Survivor Son says, “Will be sticking with Nerf football in yard ma. I also don’t like to take advice from fake news hippies like Dad, mom no offense. You’ve lived in Arizona for 9 years and haven’t visited the Grand Canyon once yet, case closed. Also, dad pushing eventual Pee Wee Football on his grandson is another example of him trying to make me bow down to his authoritative opinion, which makes me think he’s the one with brain trauma from feeding his head with too much acid at Woodstock. Because if I bowed down to this belabored, weak ass pitch command request, I would’ve shied away from doing political material during my speech at my younger brother’s wedding, when I said to his old pal from Boarding School, “Cam from Canada, make yourself at home and hit somebody. So, Jim Carrey can paint you as an alt right goon on the loose in Charlottesville, with a Tiki Torch in hand, looking like an angry rejected extra from the Sears Catalog in 89. And that material killed at the Montreal Comedy Festival in 2022, which got me the agent who got me my movie deal for Back To Hebrew School, which bought this Victorian mansion, wave runners for all 3 of my kids and my speedboat Slashing Thunder.”

Mom says, “Why do you hate me so much?” Son says, “Mom, I just hated how you always tried to shred my ego to pieces and cut me down to size in my divine powered pursuit to become a world-famous comedian author/light spreader shredder, who lives to bang out more sheets of electric fueled comedy gold. I hate your arrogance for thinking you get to tell me how to raise my kids because they’re my kids, not yours, especially after your lack of physical play with me as an infant resulted in my Torticollis correcting surgery, from being left to smoosh my face into the crib out of place for serially unhealthy, prolonged periods of time. I hated the way you always tried to make me feel like I was a crazy moron for trusting my instincts and for pursuing work I was good at, which made me feel most kick ass, happy alive.” Mom says, “I still think fencing is a dumb idea. I bet they only offer 2 fencing scholarships a year max.”  

Headbanger Baller won the Olympic Gold in Fencing 3 times in a row, shredding every fencing record in the past. Dana White expanded his business empire to include MMA with fencing swords now, in steel cage Octagons with no protective gear required, although Headbanger Baller preferred to show off his shredding edge in the ring, sporting various items from his billion dollar fashion line of ripped jean shorts, tank tops and speed metal belt with his signature middle finger logo, sporting a ring with a Kosher Chalef butcher knife inscription on it that says, “Live To Shred”.

Shredding rocks, especially when you shred perceptions of what you’re capable of achieving in this world whether it’s through individual accomplishment or through coaching your speed addicted seed or not. Shredder’s soar. Shredder’s fly high with the angels like 3 Guitar Attack from Lynyrd Skynyrd on Free Bird. Shredders makes us feel most alive, for doing the rocking out for us. Shredders inspire us to unleash our own solo edge. Shredders make us feel most alive, because they put us in touch with our Sunset Strip strutting, Headbanger Baller inside.

Michael Kornbluth

Whipped On Fatherhood

Why are mama made dinners not enough? Because it’s always better to create and guys can’t birth life. And we all know how well it turned out for Dr. Frankenstein for trying. Trying to play God didn’t create the male clone of Lady Gaga ok. Mary Shelley lives, holla, thank you very much.

For Passover, Jewish families around the world retell the story about the emergence of God’s, right hand on earth wing man, Moses, in addition to reminding us how without divine intervention, the golden Jew Adam Sandler couldn’t keep David Spade steadily employed through Netflix over the past 2 decades either and counting. What always stayed with me from my Passover seders past, is my Jewish father from the Bronx always A) Being more super relaxed calm happy than usual B) Citing the Hebrew prayers, beautifully and fluently and C) Quoting the unlikely savior of the Jewish people Moses, the stuttering abandoned orphan who says to the Israelites, “I am, what I am.” Actually, after Googling the quote from Moses, I was reminded how Hashem gave that line to Moses, “I am, who I am” as his hooky, intro sales script line to use on the Israelites when they ask him why Hashem sent the stuttering Jew to free them from enslaved bondage forever. Regardless, suffering from a slight, low self-esteem, nerve plagued stutter during my pre-pubescent years within the more snuggle soft confines of suburban Westchester Country, 30 minutes north of Manhattan, myself, it was easier for me to emphathize with the low confidence legendary prophet in the making.

Mama was working for both Seder nights yet in the spirit of the Passover holiday song homage in honor of Hashem, Dayenu, one sparkling seder night with my 3 bundles of sunshine over 4 separate wine prayers without mommy hogging up all the wine for herself was enough. First, I come home after fetching some Matzah at the very last minute, remaining true to the spirit of half my people being disorganized slobs for Doctors, Bankers and Lawyers to sneer down on us with dismissive, dumb, dumb disdain. The rest of us descendants from the 12 Tribes of Israel, either work in sales, advertising, show business, book publishing, fashion or become Democratic party peon following sheep hack journalists for a living. Matzah for all those non-Hebrew readers out there is a typically a giant unleavened, flavorless cracker, which grows on you as the days progress. If you can get used to Kale on anything, you can get into anything, Meghan McCain’s stomach rollage hitting the ground from the John, not so much. The most exciting thing about the use of Matzah on Passover besides getting the cracker size ones to place perfect nosh size bits of smoked salmon and cream cheese on it for your Female Flash, super strong, proud Jewess daughter, Singing Rose Kornbluth to make disappear in her belly at rapid fire speed, is the hiding of the Afikomen, which is the piece of Matzah you hide for your kids to find and get money for in return, because Jewish kid traditions matter, holla, thank you very much.  Blasting Songs In The Attic by Billy Joel on Vinyl while singing Streetlife Serenader, “Working hard for wages”, only to hear your pitch perfect son scream with unmatched glee from upstairs “I found it”, is more than enough to make this Passover night, a cherished night etched in my heart forevermore.

The second night of our seder managed to become more special than the last, mainly because of the Sephardic tradition, tanner, Arab looking Jews, of whipping your loved ones at the dinner table with scallions to enact the smackdown for those content to be enslaved. To say my youngest kid, Samuel Chosen Curls Was Bound To Woo got carried away with whipping his older brother is an understatement. If he threw his bum into those whacks of fury anymore, he would’ve thrown out his vertebrae. I made an orange chicken marinade to use on an Icelandic Salmon wrapped in parchment paper, a secret gentile tip from Martha Stewart actually. I also made a hearty batch of Carolina brown rice to swirl the sweet Salmon love into with sautéed bits of broccoli florets. It was the torn off pieces from my 8-piece batch of slow baked brushed, orange marinade glazed kitchen, including, meaty, scrumptious thigh meat, mixed with Carolina rice and more orange marinade love, which inspired the most emotive praise from my kids, earning lines such as, “Daddy, save some for tomorrow” and “Daddy, make this for me every day.”

My daughter helping tidy the house for the 1st seder and even placing a clean tablecloth on without my nudgy direction was more than enough joy for one night already. Despite me yelling at my son for being teary eyed, spoiled petulant about his sister taking away their precious one on one playtime together for a whole fifteen minutes max. Later, I learn from my crying son how every time he makes a wish in a fountain, he wishes, “For my books to become a success.” Again, I’ve already received more than enough love before our 1st seder night celebration began.

Still, the highlight of our Passover celebration for myself, was upholding Jewish tradition and making it sparkle anew. Fatherhood grants man the opportunity to do even greater good through our children than our fathers before us. Fatherhood grants Jewish men the golden opportunity to retell our tale of survival, redemption and eventual triumph, especially over those darn Nazi bastards and beyond. Fatherhood never grows old, for this middle age encroaching clown. With a home team like this, following my funny man leading steps, it’s impossible to frown.

Michael Kornbluth

Shooting The Shit With Jill Biden

Imagine Easter Sunday at the Biden’s Delaware estate this year? First, things get tense for Hunter’s new wife Melissa Cohen when Dr. Jill Biden says, “So today, we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus after your people heckled the Romans into crucifying our Messiah to death.”

Melissa Cohen replies, “I don’t give a shit either way Jill. I’m an atheist myself. Still, my father a conservative Jew, would disagree with your messiah premise. He wouldn’t call your hubby putting up fencing around the White House as an incoming symbol of world peace, would you? If Obama wasn’t a secret, gay Muslim, I totally could’ve seen him putting World Peace 2.0 on his gym locker at one of those private gay bathhouse clubs in Chicago to remain anonymous though. My family celebrates the Passover holiday. You know the holiday where we sub IPA’s for giant stale unleavened crackers. Not that most Jews are heavy drinkers compared to our gentile nation, but you get the gist. I know drinking is the least of Hunter’s concerns. Plus, I’m positive despite you being a gentile, you’re capable of recognizing the hilarious irony of your son from a different mother, giving up blow for blow painting. Also, cut the Mother Theresa act Jill. Everyone in Delaware knows Joe had an affair with you when he was still married before the horrific tragic car crash, which you’ve collectively exploited politically for all it’s worth, which doesn’t sound very Christ like to me. Then again, the Crusades happened to get back at the all non-believers such as my people the Jews, despite Christianity not being an official religion back in ancient biblical times during the time of Jesus’s death. Also, I never understood why Christians hate Jews so much, assuming they were Christ Killers or not. First, Jesus was a Jew and gentiles weren’t flocking to see Schindler’s List opening weekend. Second, if Jesus doesn’t get crucified, the Bible part 2 is never written. There’s no record of Jesus ever ascending to heaven, giving his 12 apostles to write his comeback life tale with the promise of eternal life, assuming you acknowledge Jesus as the only self-anointed, bouncer gatekeeper of heaven and king of the Jewish people, despite possessing zero ancestry DNA with King David or King Solomon after him, just saying. How many Jewish friends do you have Jill, being a real doctor and all? But plenty of Jews hurt our people’s image such as Bernie Madoff, Harvey Weinstein, that crystal meth head, Adam Schiff. Trust me, after knowing your son during his druggy years, I know a meth head when I see one. If Adam Schiff’s eyes were any bigger buggier, he’d be John Holmes in Wonderland, assuming his best friend is another scumbag Democratic operative like Ed Buck being charged for manslaughter for getting black homeless escorts overdose on crystal meth in his West Hollywood pad before exchanging their services. Let’s just meet in the middle and agree Adam Schiff is no angel of light or will ever be confused for being a chosen cosmic perfectionist of any kind. So, if I wanted to drop Hunter’s IPHONE into the garbage can outside of Janssen’s Market, love their Filet Mignon Egg Sandwich by the way, with pictures of him putting a gun to my head during some kinky role playing, when I play the computer repairman’s daughter in Wilmington, Delaware. Would the Secret Service keep those pics under wraps for us, or am I blowing your husband’s compromised deep state relationship with the Secret Service and China completely out of proportion? Xi is a good a guy Jill? You know nobody believes that shit Jill, especially the suicide net makers for Apple. Granted, you haven’t taught in years but deliver that line about Xi being a great guy to every mother whose had to quit their jobs to help monitor their kids remoting learning experience, with no burning mask parities in sight, vaccine mandated or not, despite more kids dying of suicide this year than from fucking COVID. And maybe then, I’ll respect your alleged Christian good deed hued nature again babe. At least our baby boy is a boy. So keeping Joe away from any future hair sniffing incidents, is one last thing I need to worry about it. I didn’t marry into the Podesta family for a reason.

Michael Kornbluth

Shooting The Shit With Jill Biden

Imagine Easter Sunday at the Biden’s Delaware estate this year? First, things get tense for Hunter’s new wife Melissa Cohen when Dr. Jill Biden says, “So today, we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus after your people heckled the Romans into crucifying our Messiah to death.”

Melissa Cohen replies, “I don’t give a shit either way Jill. I’m an atheist myself. Still, my father a conservative Jew, would disagree with your messiah premise. He wouldn’t call your hubby putting up fencing around the White House as an incoming symbol of world peace, would you? If Obama wasn’t a secret, gay Muslim, I totally could’ve seen him putting World Peace 2.0 on his gym locker at one of those private gay bathhouse clubs in Chicago to remain anonymous though. My family celebrates the Passover holiday. You know the holiday where we sub IPA’s for giant stale unleavened crackers. Not that most Jews are heavy drinkers compared to our gentile nation, but you get the gist. I know drinking is the least of Hunter’s concerns. Plus, I’m positive despite you being a gentile, you’re capable of recognizing the hilarious irony of your son from a different mother, giving up blow for blow painting. Also, cut the Mother Theresa act Jill. Everyone in Delaware knows Joe had an affair with you when he was still married before the horrific tragic car crash, which you’ve collectively exploited politically for all it’s worth, which doesn’t sound very Christ like to me. Then again, the Crusades happened to get back at the all non-believers such as my people the Jews, despite Christianity not being an official religion back in ancient biblical times during the time of Jesus’s death. Also, I never understood why Christians hate Jews so much, assuming they were Christ Killers or not. First, Jesus was a Jew and gentiles weren’t flocking to see Schindler’s List opening weekend. Second, if Jesus doesn’t get crucified, the Bible part 2 is never written. There’s no record of Jesus ever ascending to heaven, giving his 12 apostles to write his comeback life tale with the promise of eternal life, assuming you acknowledge Jesus as the only self-anointed, bouncer gatekeeper of heaven and king of the Jewish people, despite possessing zero ancestry DNA with King David or King Solomon after him, just saying. How many Jewish friends do you have Jill, being a real doctor and all? But plenty of Jews hurt our people’s image such as Bernie Madoff, Harvey Weinstein, that crystal meth head, Adam Schiff. Trust me, after knowing your son during his druggy years, I know a meth head when I see one. If Adam Schiff’s eyes were any bigger buggier, he’d be John Holmes in Wonderland, assuming his best friend is another scumbag Democratic operative like Ed Buck being charged for manslaughter for getting black homeless escorts overdose on crystal meth in his West Hollywood pad before exchanging their services. Let’s just meet in the middle and agree Adam Schiff is no angel of light or will ever be confused for being a chosen cosmic perfectionist of any kind. So, if I wanted to drop Hunter’s IPHONE into the garbage can outside of Janssen’s Market, love their Filet Mignon Egg Sandwich by the way, with pictures of him putting a gun to my head during some kinky role playing, when I play the computer repairman’s daughter in Wilmington, Delaware. Would the Secret Service keep those pics under wraps for us, or am I blowing your husband’s compromised deep state relationship with the Secret Service and China completely out of proportion? Xi is a good a guy Jill? You know nobody believes that shit Jill, especially the suicide net makers for Apple. Granted, you haven’t taught in years but deliver that line about Xi being a great guy to every mother whose had to quit their jobs to help monitor their kids remoting learning experience, with no burning mask parities in sight, vaccine mandated or not, despite more kids dying of suicide this year than from fucking COVID. And maybe then, I’ll respect your alleged Christian good deed hued nature again babe. At least our baby boy is a boy. So keeping Joe away from any future hair sniffing incidents, is one last thing I need to worry about it. I didn’t marry into the Podesta family for a reason.

Michael Kornbluth

The Pigheaded Jew

Whose more pigheaded stubborn the gentile or Jew? And I’ll take the Crusades 1 through 5000 Alex.   

But for some reasons Jews are always attacked for being the most stupid stubborn of the 2.  I thought we controlled all the world’s media messaging. I’m right, you’re wrong Christian Right country, sorry.

You want to talk about abominations? What arises more disgust, the Catholic Church never excommunicating Hitler or any Pope never excommunicating himself for granting pedophilia priests Nick At Night casting couch immunity.

You want to talk haughty.  What’s more ostentatious, Vatican’s party palace, Trump’s gold-plated hair dryer or Adam Sandler’s throwback Jam shorts on the set of Grown Ups 1 and 2?

You want to talk traitorous. Whose worse, fake news Christian Mike Pence for letting Democracy die on his watch or Obama Be Good who gifted Iran 150 billion to create overseas manufacturing jobs for Build A Bear to make their economy less reliant on the sale of face removal cream for the Kardashians? 

Growing up in a Kosher household, eating pork outside of it, wasn’t always a guilt free experience.  Even when I used to house my morning bacon, egg and cheese at the school cafeteria, I’d feel a tad dirty like the time I touched myself over my Everlast sweatpants in the nurse’s office as the perpetually busty Lauren Lighthall entered, with her nips fuller erect than my pubescent life shooter in the making at the time, knowing I still hadn’t gotten into the puberty party yet. So, playing with myself, resulted in me giving myself a reverse golden shower. I wouldn’t saying eating bacon was the equivalent to the dirty sensation of giving myself an accidental reverse golden shower at 15, up late after watching a steamy session of the Golden Girls, where Blanch tries out to be America’s next Jane Fonda, but the surge in icky guilt came close.

Jesus declaring all foods were clean had to piss off the pigheaded Old Testament God a bit, don’t you think? 400 years after God communicated the Torah in full to Moses on Mount Sinai, Jesus the frail carpenter admits out loud, “I need more protein in my diet and having to wait for a cow’s blood to be drained, is too much of a drain on my time already. Don’t worry fellow Hebrews. God doesn’t care if you break his Kosher law anymore. Accept me as the Son of God and your only means to get into Heaven. And you can eat pulled pork sandwiches in no go zone sections in Damascus, for all I care.” Holla, thank you very much.

Gentiles love their ham. It’s the chosen family tradition on Easter to prove they’re not pigheaded, stubborn stupid Jews, I get it.

Matthew was informed through a vison, declaring all pork Kosher in God’s eyes, assuming, you said grace, got baptized, ate symbolic parts of Jesus in Church, accepted him as your only possible messiah, thêreby gâuranting you a free pass into Heaven no matter what. Regardless, if you never repented or confessed to spreading intentional Jew killing blood libel about Jews being Christ killers because he was heckled to death by the devilish ancestry of Don Rickles.

While I’m on the subject of heckling, Gentiles don’t get enough credit for being the glaringly unoriginal hecklers. Jew Devil, Jew Pig that, although dangling bacon on poles in front of Jews in the streets of London when they had a Jewish Prime Minister in power for a bit, as a form of low budget, lowbrow Guerrilla Marketing used to promote the infinite goodness of the pork brain diet, wasn’t completely chop liver either.  Oh yeah, the other popular Jew heckle back in the day was Jews are descendants of pigs. Pigs are always being heralded as smarter than Ben and Jerry’s stoned out cows by woke white elitists.  So, I still don’t see how this insult is supposed to sting as intended. A Jewish doctor invented the polio vaccine and gave it away for free. Regardless of Hunter Biden getting paid 50 grand a week to jam nose candy up his nose, for what he thought was a sports energy company in the Ukraine, pushing borscht as the new Kombucha, makes him the greedier pig in this instance. Then again, Hunter never bothered to ask his baby mama strippers to get abortions, so he’s actually least likely to be excommunicated compared to pôps who off the record, insisted the hair on Jamal’s leg doesn’t make him a person in the annual profit and loss statement for the CEO of Planned Parenthood, sorry.

How does Farrakhan celebrate Holocaust Remembrance Day?  Spray Eli Wiesel’s Twitter page, with Termite Emoji’s from dusk till dawn.

How did Baby Face Omar acknowledge the death of Amy Winehouse’s death on Twitter? Did she call Amywinehouse a horn hiding devil spawn, who exploited the great Palestinian Song Book for all it was worth.

I can pick on my people to. For example, why do Jews think it’s kosher to eat non-kosher out of the home? Do these people, think, “Porking my wife with the lights on feels more off wrong to me, if I had to choose.”

What message was a gentile sending by throwing a pork chop against a Synagogue?  Costco is our Church of Later Day Saints to. So, we’ve got some extra loving grace to spare.

And why should I thank my in-laws for ordering pizza on my daughter’s birthday with pork on it in our Jewish home?  Should I feel blessed knowing my mother-in-law didn’t tag on the pizza box, Jesus Was Here?

Again, how are Jews more pigheaded stubborn than Gentiles exactly? It was the Spanish who pushed Jews to show a gesture of goodwill by eating pork in front of them during the Spanish Inquisition to qualify the seriousness of their conversion. Despite the converted Jew being picky pushy about it, asking, “Would it kill you to grab me some acorn fed Serrano Ham to nosh on instead?

Still, the smell of smoky succulent bacon in addition it’s divine blessed crispy crunch snap is hard to beat. Thank God, he invented vegetarians to resist Jesus’s instructions to give up pork skins for Lent in his honor centuries later. Who later invented Morning Star Veggie Bacon because they never got the delectable smells of brunch centric swine out of their system either.  The key to opening up all the full blossomed flavor potential of a Koshertarian BLT is to fry the veggie bacon in veggie oil at medium heat in your double handle pancake griddle.  Now, thanks to Jewish inventions such as greenhouse grown tomatoes, Koshertarian BLTs don’t have to limited to selling your spleen for some Heirloom tomatoes in July at your local Farmer’s Market during the summer only, having a blast, till major sticker shock ensues seconds later. Also, be at one with God’s graced earth, and use cut up pieces of leafy, sparkly shimmery sage from your garden to swirl into a bowl of mayo, salt, pepper and peeled garlic to make your bomb fresh, A plus, aioli mix.  

Personally, I like to use toasted country white bread for my kids Koshterian BLT’s because most wheat toast sucks. And New York Jews like are very picky, pigheaded Jewy about what bread we use or else we’d move to Scottsdale, Arizona and act like every day is Passover day, because the sunbelt was never chosen for endless, on-demand, baked bread delight.  Although one of my favorite memories is my 3 kids conducting a cherry tomato party in our garden with my smart phone flashlight last summer to use for our Koshertarian summer loving having a blast BLT special, which felt twice as blessed knowing how these balls of rounded, red cherry tomato perfection, derived from the earth amongst our home sweet, Koshertarian promoting home.

Michael Kornbluth

Michael Kornbluth