I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, I’ve been called away this week on account of a very exciting opportunity, you bet. I’ve been asked to audition for a shot at becoming an iconic figure to young and old—a role I always figured to be more or less inevitable, sooner or later, kind of, what the fock.
This offer was made to me because apparently there’s been some trouble at a theme park down there in the Sunshine State. I’m not at liberty to name the park, but just between me and you’s, let me tell you I heard that Donald Duck’s addicted to quack and has taken to showing up for work completely naked instead of only pants-less. Also, I’ve heard the Mouse is going through an ugly divorce that has wreaked havoc as well as dicked with the delicate character-chemistry so necessary to maintain a successful magical mechanism bonded by fantastical animism and the wishful dream to stupendously lighten the vacationer’s wallet, makes no difference who you are.
A friend of mine down there told me that at a recent divorce hearing, the Mouse was trying to convince a judge to grant him a divorce from the Mrs. The judge at one point said, “I’m sorry, Mickey. But your claim that Minnie is crazy is not sufficient ground upon which I can grant a divorce.” Mickey sought to clarify the situation, “Now just one cotton-picking minute by golly there, your honor. I didn’t say she was ‘crazy’—I said she was focking Goofy. And if you don’t grant me a divorce, then I’ll sue the pants off that dog for ‘alienation of affection,’ I kid you not.”
Boy-oh, that sure doesn’t sound good, ain’a?
Anyways, I got to run. But like they say, it’s a small world, so I’m sure I’ll see you around ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.