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Welcome, Losers

Mar. 17, 2010
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I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So yeah, damn it, it’s happened again. I’m talking about that bullshit Daylight Saving Time, and I’m not happy about it, I kid you not.

Here’s the thing: I lost an hour from my life last Sunday, for the reason I’m supposing that now our farmers get an extra hour of daylight so’s to plow their fields of chemicalized crops, to later be harvested, sliced and diced and cosmetically dicked with, then frozen and packaged along with some other stuff from somewheres into smallish plastic containers that feature a word like “lean” on the package, to be sold to the already fat-ass red, white & blue grocery-market consumer who, dietetically secure in their health-conscious purchase of entrée, will reward themselves for good behavior by supplementing the “lean” meal with a bag of focking potato chips the size of a middle-schooler’s sleeping bag and a cake of chocolate equal in circumference to the New Orleans Superdome. God bless America.

Anyways, yeah, I lost an hour last Sunday. And wouldn’t you know, it happened to be the one hour I had set aside to research, hone and slap together what should’ve been my hard-hitting nut/nutette grabbing essay for this week that would explain how one and all ought to think and feel about the schmutz accrued by these politically current days of time we be clocking.

I had thought to ponder upon Mr. Glenn Beck of Focks News and his recent call for church-going Americans to high-tail from their place of worship if said place of worship entertained the notion that economic and/or social justice might be a thing to consider as a helping-hand to the out-of-luck downtrodden.

(“Glenn”? Those I’ve known to be saddled with that first name have gone by “Glen,” forgoing the double “n.” I’m guessing that in Mr. Beck’s situation, the extra “n” is attached as a code letter by a left-wing conspiracy, perhaps to signify “nitwit,” or “nutbag,” ain’a?)

Apparently Herr “I want my country back” Beck believes that economic and/or social justice are code words for communism and/or Nazism. Lordy. Social justice and the Nazis cooing as two in Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest? Doubt it. In fact, I had never heretofore connected Nazism with the idea of “social justice.” I was curious to seek out a guy named Saul, Ira or Julius “Groucho” Marx to see if they also had difficulty with that connection, what the fock.

Indeed, had I the time, I would’ve contemplated whether or not the name “Glenn Beck” was in fact the code name for “assassinate our Democrats,” “gas our Jews,” and “hang our Negroes”—and what of the Michele Bachmannsss, the Rush Limbaughsss, the Bill Kristolss, the Liz Cheneysss, the Mitch McConnellsss, the Karl Rovesss, the Dick Armeysss, the Scott Walkersss, as similar “code”?

Alas, the hour I had planned for punditry clear thinking was snatched from me. So, what to do?

NCAA Basketball, that’s what, you betcha. This weekend Our Town will play host to the first couple rounds of the Big Dance and so welcome, you collegiate fans, students, hangers-on and alumni of the Yellow Jackets, Buckeyes, Panthers, Grizzlies, Cowboys, Gauchos, Golden focking Gophers, Musketeers.

You’s people need to remember two things as you visit Brew City. One: This is not New York, the City that Never Sleeps. This is Milwaukee, the City that Always Sweeps. So, after you puke your nacho-beer guts out on the sidewalk, be it on North Water Street or Old World Third Street, please mop up your mess—and that goes double for you’s knobshine candy-asses from Columbus, O-focking-hio—thank you. Two: Just so you know, that any one of you eight-jag teams trying to make a basket at our beautiful Bradley Center would-and-will get your student-athlete ass reamed but good if you should come up against our Badgers or our Golden Eagles somewheres down the line. Book it.

And yeah, I filled out a bracket this year. Like always, I might’ve over-thunk it. Somehow I got Electoral College going up against Manpower Business Institute in the final with EC winning by a majority, what the fock ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.


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