Art Kumbalek
I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? Listen, in regard to my recent medical adventures, I’m reminded of a little story: A patient is sitting on the examination table. He says, “Doctor, you look puzzled. Is something wrong?” The doctor says, “I can’t figure out what’s wrong with you. I think it’s the result of heavy drinking.” The patient replies, “Okey-doke, Doc, I know the feeling. I’ll just come back when you’re sober.” Ba-ding!
Anyways, before I launch this here essay to tell you for the umpteenth time about how today’s Republicans and their whitewashed Tea Party “rebels” suck ass and harbinger the new fascism, I need to give a big ol’ hearty shout-out to Our Town’s mighty Brewhaus Polka Kings—each one a fine family man, here and there, now and then, what the fock.
Last Saturday afternoon, they graciously volunteered their monumental musical services to entertain the Menschenmasse of steiners and diners at the Shepherd’s Stein and Dine event out at State Fair Park. And when they asked me to join them for a couple, three tunes, I nearly schottisched my pantaloons, I shit you not. It was an honor and a pleasure, indeed.
You really ought to live a little and treat yourself to the mighty Brewhaus Polka Kings experience, say how ’bout every Friday evening for the fish fry over by the Lakefront Brewery Beer Hall. The fellas pump out the polkas and more, 5:30 p.m.-8:30 p.m., as they’ve done since before the Eisenhower administration. Hoi, hoi, hoi!
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So about the trappings of Tea Party folderol, I’m reminded of what Alice said as she left her Wonderland tea party: “At any rate I’ll never go there again!… It’s the stupidest tea party I ever was at in all my life!”
You betcha.
As an unbeknownst no-dough candidate for the presidency come 2016, let me tell you’s that I believe the spirit and soul of this United States of America remains strong, and will continue so provided that “Christian conservative Republicans” are born again to my definition of “Christian” and that Wall Street investment bankers, and like ilk, are launched into space so as to find some other economic planet to fock up.
Our country needs to return to the ideal of good intentions upon which it was founded. Doesn’t really matter if they’re successful, just as long as they’re good. That’s the key. What the fock, good deeds and kind words, that’s my kind of America. And so I leave you with this inspirational story recently sent to me:
Dear Artie: As a bagpiper, I was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man who had no family or friends. The funeral was to be held at a cemetery in the remote countryside and this man would be the first to be laid to rest there.
As I was not familiar with the backwoods area, I became lost and being a typical man, did not stop for directions. I finally arrived an hour late. I saw the backhoe and the crew who were eating lunch but the hearse was nowhere in sight.
I apologized to the workers for my tardiness and stepped to the side of the open grave where I saw the vault lid already in place. I assured the workers I would not hold them up for long but that this was the proper thing to do. The workers gathered around, still eating their lunch. And so I blew my pipes and played out my heart and soul.
As I played the workers began to weep. I played and I played like I’d never played before, from “Going Home” and “The Lord Is My Shepherd” to “Flowers of the Forest.” I closed this rather lengthy session with “Amazing Grace” and as I walked to my car, I whistled “Danny Boy.”
As I was opening the door and taking off my coat, I overheard one of the workers say to another, “Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I’ve never seen nothin’ like that before, and I’ve been putting in septic tanks for twenty years.”
’Tis true, there seems to be much of a muchness afoot these days, but I’d still like to believe that good deeds and kind words can take you anywhere, as they say, until they say something else, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
