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Art Kumbalek

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, I know a lot of you’s are looking forwards to the summertime season coming up like a hot tamale, unlike yours truly who does not appreciate in the least that time of year when if it’s not the heat, it’s the stupidity for crying out loud.

Be that as it may, June, July and August, I’d like to give you’s a little something else to look forward to, and so shall I provide you with a sneak preview of some of my blockhead-busting essays I’ll be delivering come summer on this page/screen in front of you, what the fock.

In fact, if I were you I’d go pitch a pup tent right now outside or inside the door of wherever it is you access your Shepherd Express, and prepare to camp there all summer long ’cause every week you’re going to want to be among the first to have experienced the highflying load of linguistic legerdemain I got lined up in store for you on this hot-time season’s shelves as soon as I think of it.

And the good news is that you can still carry in all the Good & Plenty and ice-cold bottled beer you can stand when reading these upcoming essays ’cause why would I care, what the fock.

Mission: Impossible–Successful Marriage: The feel-good, laff-riot essay of the summer slated for a June release in time for the slew of matrimonial ceremonies that take place this month. There won’t be a dry eye or dry seat left in the house once you’s get done reading this one. For better or worse, a rhetorical question—“What are you, focking nuts?”—begs for the hearts and minds of the soon-to-be-damned. There’ll also be this memorable word-picture:

A man is in court on trial for murder. The judge says, “You are charged with beating your wife to with a hammer.” A voice from the back of the court yells, “You bastard!”

The judge glares and then continues, “You are also charged with beating your mother-in-law with a hammer.” Again the voice from the back of the court bellows, “You bastard!!” The judge pounds his gavel and says, “We cannot have any more of these outbursts from you, sir, or I shall charge you with contempt. Now, what is the problem?”

And the guy in the back of the courtroom stands and says, “Your honor, 15 years I’ve lived next door to that bastard, and every time I asked to borrow a hammer, he said he didn’t have one!”

Starbucks Back to the Future Wars: ManDeLorean and Princess Barista: During a slow news week, I may expand my thoughts about the first guy maybe a couple five-thousand years ago to discover coffee, when he got it into his head that it would be a grand idea to grind up some beans he happened to notice hanging off a tree somewheres, toss the ground-up stuff into some hot water and then drink this dredge just to see what the heck would happen. What the fock did people back then need a coffee buzz for, anyways. What, they were a little groggy in the morning from staying up too late with the TV or ’cause they were cramming for final exams? Yeah, I don’t think so, either.

Toy Exculpatory 6-7: This one’s for the youth in my reading audience so they got a little something to kill time with besides summertime shoplifting and what-not. I’ll toss in a couple of lighthearted riddles: “How come Raggedy Ann got banned from the toy chest? Give up? ’Cause she kept sitting on Pinocchio’s face and saying, ‘Lie to me, lie to me, damn it!’” “What’s green and hangs from trees? Giraffe snot.” I’ll pass along some age-appropriate wisdom like, “Never, ever mix good booze with soda.” And I’ll wind it up with a fun essay question for which I’ll ask them to send their answers to me for some kind of bullshit prize: “Compare and contrast the Neolithic Revolution with the Counter-Reformation, and if you don’t cite your sources, you’ll never see your dog again.”

Hey Man: Captain Kumbalek vs. Masters of the Universe: Here, I get a bug up my butt but good that turns me into a crusading super-humanist who battles all forms of religious belief during the course of one helluva action-packed essay, I kid you not. Be you Muslim, Baptist, Buddhist, Catholic, Hindu, Aztec, Mormon, Deadhead, Pente-focking-costalist or Jehovah’s Witness, I’m kicking your fanatical fanny around the block and back. Possessed only with the powers of regular common sense and an ounce of compassion for his fellow creature, it’s one man’s attempt to set the world on a sane and just path as we leave all the various Lords, Lordettes and what-nots shrinking to nothingness in the rearview mirror.

The Odd Essay: Wannabe dream-like epic. A regular guy’s triumphant return to some kind of health after a couple, three years long battle with the Big C so’s to pen weekly columns of the same ol’ miraculously debt free.

So there you go. All that’s left for me to do is to go bask in (and with) the bright lights of the Uptowner tavern/charm school and get down to work, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.