Earth Angle

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Art Kumbalek

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, here I sit in my dinky apartment attempting to enjoy a nice cocktail whilst still agog at the passing of Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, at the age of 99, what with so much monarchy yet to be monarched. And so I toast the prince, who once said “I don’t think a prostitute is more moral than a wife, but they are doing the same thing.” And this from a guy who was hitched to the focking queen of England for 73 years. Good lord, I’ll bet you a buck two-eighty in pounds and shillings that the “whore” Elizabeth II thought that was a real gasser, you think?

And so as I hover near the phone, waiting for Joe Biden to call and offer me a nice, comfortably salaried government position—after all, I’ve voted nothing but Democrat or Socialist since 1972, back when you had to be 21 years old in order to flip the levers behind the ballot-box- curtain—I hear another Earth Day is about to come and go, and what with the ferkakta climate-change weather that’s been going on for at least a couple, three, twenty years, you got to wonder how many more trips around the calendar we may have left, what the fock.

As usual, I don’t do much celebrating of the day and don’t expect to in the future, if there is one. As I’ve said many times, until they make Earth Day the kind of official holiday for which you get a paid eight hours off from your crappy job so’s you can go visit relatives and drink their beer all afternoon, I won’t be putting on the party hat.

And speaking of the Earth, I’ve been reading a lot lately about our astronomers discovering more and more a bunch of Earth-like planets out there in Star Trek land because of hot-shot upgrades with the telescopes and what-not—and I say “Hold your horses,” Professor Frink. I’ll tell you’s, if we find a planet loaded with people just like us, we’re in big trouble big-time, I kid you not.

Whilst mixing up another hot-focking toddy (it is only April after all and I’ve just seen snow out my window), I recalled perusing the news the other year and stumbling upon a headline I certainly did not need to see, then or never: “NASA chief scientist: ‘Indications’ of alien life by 2025.” Focking swell. In the story, the scientist says, “I think we’re going to have strong indications of life beyond Earth within a decade… We know where to look. We know how to look… It’s definitely not an if, it’s a when.” Again, focking swell.

And then I remembered a TV show on the Discovery Channel a while back where the now-late eminent rocket-scientist Stephen Hawking—a brainiac bon vivant whose résumé included every goddamn thing under the cosmos with the exception of a guest spot on “Dancing With the Stars”—declared that intelligent life from outer reaches of the universe could be, well, dangerous.

He said visitors to our fair planet from outer space could be “nomads, looking to conquer and colonize.” How ’bout that? And I concur—not just “conquer and colonize,” but the fact these technologically advanced aliens might hail from a resource-depleted corner of a solar system and so they got to be looking for new nutrient food sources. And who be the “food sources”?

Could we, the sapien race of human beings, become the “chickens” who be sliced, diced, chopped, seasoned and fried to be served on a fast-food sandwich to 12-foot aliens who sport bald large-cranium brains the size of elite university-library globes of the planet Earth? Hey, you tell me.

And then I’ll tell you’s that, you betcha, we can. And all I can say is that it’s time to be no longer singly or groupishly Native Americans, Native Mexicans, white Americans, Africans, Euro-focking-peans, Muslimites, native blah-blah and blah-blah. No sir, time to be collectively Native Earthlings ’cause those alien extraterrestrials from the planet You Are Focked Up the Ass, Earthling Losers are due any day now, and the first thing they want to do is reach up and tear our livers right clean out of our assholes, besides possibly screw our Earth women three-ways sideways ’til Sunday. As human beings, we ought to be good and gosh-darn familiar with that kind of modus operandi, ain’a?

What a world, what a universe. Reminds me of a little story:

Some years ago, a film crew was on location deep in the desert. One day an old Native American what-they-used-to-call Indian went up to the director and said, “Tomorrow, rain.” The next day it rained. A week later, the Indian went up to the director and said, “Tomorrow, storm.” The next day there was a hailstorm.

“This Indian is incredible,” the director said. He told his personal assistant to hire the Indian to predict the weather. But then, after several successful predictions, the wise Native American was not seen for weeks. Finally, the director sent for him, and when he appeared, the director asked, “I have to shoot a big scene tomorrow, and I need your native expertise. What will the weather be like?” The Indian shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know,” he said. “Radio broke.”

And there we go. Please remain at ease. There’s nothing us Homo sapiens can’t do, or can’t kill, these days, space aliens be damned. The wonder of it all, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.