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A Kind of Lush, All Over the World


Jan. 2, 2008
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I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? And so another holiday season comes to a close—for most of you’s, but not for me, no sir. As I’ve said many times before, for a guy like me everyday’s just another focking holiday, I kid you not. And I can honestly tell you that I’m not bashful to invoke the lord-to-some’s name as I celebrate my daily focking holiday, to wit: “Jesus H. Christ, where the hell is the goddamn bus?” “For Christ sakes you got to be jerking beefaroni. You want how much for that cocktail?”

So listen, I was going to put off my much ballyhooed Look Back/Watch Out Ahead gala essay until next week, or later, ’cause like the great philosopher Alfred E. Neuman, I too prefer to live in the past—the rents are always cheaper.

Besides, I don’t exactly know what to think about this “prediction” malarkey. It’s that time of year now where all these socalled soothsayers come crawling out of the knobwork. Soothsayer. Look it up in the dictionary some time why don’t you. I’ll bet you a buck two-eighty it says this: “Soothsayer— Bullshit artist of ancient times.”

I believe it was the Greeks back in the olden days who started up the soothsaying racket, and I think it was Pliny the Elder, or maybe Anonymous, who established the fundamental guideline for the soothsaying racket, which is: “The common knucklehead jackass will swallow anything, and the more you charge, the more he’ll swallow.” The modern day equivalent of the ancient soothsayer would be your psychics and fortune tellers, who always predict a rich future for you that begins as soon as you give them all your dough.

Anyways, here it is, the annual Kumbalek Look Back/Watch Out Ahead: The Year 2007: Sucked, but good. A Look Ahead, 2008: Will suck, even more.

And that’s all I’ve got to say about that ’cause I’d like to break this off right here, right now, and do something nice for myself like crank up the thermostat and mix another hot focking toddy, you bet.

Yeah, hate to disappoint you if you were in the market for a next-year’s prediction a tad rosier, but you got to remember that disappointment is a fact of life. Albert focking Einstein was disappointed that he never found a way to wrap up his Theory of Everything before he croaked. And I’m extremely disappointed that I’ll never get to meet Marilyn Monroe, not to mention my deep disappointment cum despair that my bonehead ancestors thought it was a better idea to settle here in the Upper Midwest instead of the temperate and libertine lifestyle climes of Ta-focking-hiti, what the fock.

But that’s life, mister. Yes, you’ll be disappointed sometime, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and maybe for the rest of your life. Your Auntie Mame may once have said, “Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death,” but your Uncle Art says, “Life’s a crap casserole and all you can do is strap on the ol’ feedbag and say ‘bon apptit.’”

So happy focking New Year. But before I go, I’d like to mention that for Christmas, I received a nice little story from my buddy Little Jimmy Iodine, but I already had it so I thought I’d re-gift it to you ’cause what the fock. Here, try it on:

So on Christmas morning this cop on horseback is sitting at a traffic light, and next to him is a kid on a shiny new Schwinn. Cop says to the kid, “That’s a very nice bicycle you’ve got there. Did Santa bring that for you?”

The kid replies, “You bet, officer.” And the cop says, “Well, next year tell Santa to put a taillight on that bike.”

The cop decides to give the kid a lesson for Christmas and proceeds to issue a $20 bicycle-safety violation ticket. The kid takes the ticket, wishes the cop a merry Christmas but before he rides off says, “By the way, officer, that’s a nice horse you’ve got there. Did Santa bring that to you?” Upholding the spirit of the season, the cop says, “Yes son, he sure did.”

And the kid says, “Well, next year tell Santa to put the focking asshole at the back-end of the horse instead of on top, would you?” Ba-ding! ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.


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