Photo Illustration by: Dave Zylstra
Art Kumbalek on Santa's lap
I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, I am backed up but good with the schmutz of making a list (and boy-oh, do I have a list), a task that shall flush down the toilet my time to flip out a showroom-quality essay for you’s this week, boo-hoo.
But don’t despair. I shoveled through the festering compost heap on my dinky desk and dug up a piece of essay that I shall now re-gift for your perusing pleasure ’cause what the fock:
Stop me if you’ve heard this, but it’s that time of year when your neighborly folks on the TV local news begin to dish out handy tips on how to handle the seasonal stress of the holiday season, so that you don’t find yourself come Christmas morning barricaded inside your abode, gazing out your living-room window through the sights of a high-powered rifle, ready to dampen the Yuletide spirit of anything that moves.
These stress-relieving tips could only be enlightening if you were a time-traveler from the past—say from before the Magna focking Carta was John Hancocked, when the people were too busy slaughtering each other all the time to even think of having a holiday.
But for the average Tom, Dick or Dickless, there’s not a whole lot of meat on the bones of these “handy” tips. They lead one to shake their head and say, “You got to be jerking my beefaroni. How focking stupid do you think I am?”
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I’d like to give you a tip or two from my own catalog on how to get the stress-monkey off your aching back.
Now as some of you’s know, my personal solution to holiday stress is to have another hot focking toddy and crank up the thermostat. Don’t forget that stress is the silent killer, and if you’re so inclined, nothing puts a quick kibosh on stress like a nice cigarette, so always be aware to smoke ’em if you got ’em. And if you don’t got ’em, get ’em.
If you feel that you still got stress coming out your dupa even after doing what I just told you to do, you may have “the kind of stress where you wake up screaming and you realize you haven’t fallen asleep yet.” This is not good and I don’t know what the fock to tell you, I kid you not.
Except that my ol’ buddy Jay, some years past, sent me an eight-step technique for stress management. It’s nice to know you can accomplish something in only eight steps. Chances are that’s fewer steps than the number you’d need to take to get to the nearest tavern, ain’a? Anyways, here’s the technique. Maybe it can help you out, what the fock.
1. Picture yourself near a stream.
2. Birds are softly chirping in the cool mountain air.
3. No one but you knows your secret place.
4. You are in total seclusion from the hectic place called “the world.”
5. The soothing sound of a gentle waterfall fills the air with a cascade of serenity.
6. The water is crystal clear.
7. You can easily make out the face of the person you’re holding underwater.
8. See! You're smiling already... spread the joy!
In fact, for a double dose of relief, why not think of the above whilst you take your steps to the nearest cocktail palace? Hey, you tell me.
And then I’ll tell you that it’s been known that sometimes a good laugh can dial down the meter on your pressure cooker. And who can use a good laugh more than a married guy with kids ’cause jeez louise, if it’s not the kids, it’s the wife, and the next thing you know you’re being hauled away in handcuffs. So, for you’s guys sporting the double ball-and-chain, try this one on for size:
Little Patty brought her report card home from school. Her grades were good, As and Bs. However, her teacher had written across the bottom: “Patty’s a smart little girl, but she has one fault. She talks too much in class. I have an idea I’m going to try, which may break her of the habit.” Patty’s dad signed the report card and put a note on the back: “Please let me know if your idea works on Patty, because I’d like to try it out on her mother.” Ba-ding!
Come to think of it, there’s one more thing you could do for stress, something you could do any ol’ time of year and you don’t need a damn license or a whole lot of expensive equipment neither: Take off work and go beer hunting. In fact, I’m going out right now to see if I can bring down a 24-can pack with as many shots as I can stand ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
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