Ask What You Can Do to Your Country

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Art Kumbalek

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? And so once again, I am forced to say this, what the fock: Yes, I hear America’s Dairyland despairing, the varied requiems to Super Bowl dreams I do hear. To have parked one’s fat dupa on the davenport in front of the TV, week after week after week, girded to reap the spoils of ultimate Green & Gold glory, the true Packer patriot must now retreat and suffer a relentless way-off season of household chores, bingier drinking, wife-nagging, kid shit, economic ass-shafting plus other malarkey—through the remaining winter, the spring, the summer—’til the fall, when once again the possibility of validating one’s sense of self-worth through the achievement of well-compensated gargantuans looms large upon the field of Lambeau in the Emerald City by some kind of bay. Sucks, don’t it?

You bet I feel your pain, and so I turn toward my performance of good works directed at healing, and where better to commence than up over by the Uptowner tavern/charm school majestically crammed onto the corner of wistfully hysteric Humboldt Boulevard and the fabled Center Street—where today is always at least a day before tomorrow, and yesterday may gosh darn well be today. Come along if you’d like, but you buy the first round. Let’s get going.

Ernie: How ’bout that price for electricity these dark days, jacked up to where a guy’s got to take out a loan every month when he gets his bill, what the fock.

Herbie: Bitch all you want, but it might be wise to recall the words of ol’ Lonesome George Gobel: “If it wasn’t for electricity, we’d be watching TV by candlelight.”

Emil: So true.

Ray: But if electricity comes from electrons, does that mean morality comes from morons?

Little Jimmy Iodine: Which reminds me, I hear the difference between President Trumpel-thin-skin and a sack of manure is the sack. Is that true?

Herbie: Could be one of those what-you-call alternative facts, like, Columbus discovered America.

Little Jimmy Iodine: Chuck Heston was a good actor.

Julius: Or, smoking’s bad for you.

Ernie: Ronald Reagan was a good president.

Herbie: For your health, drink only in moderation.

Little Jimmy: It’s a lucky thing none of us guys drive. The people in Cheeseland better keep at least one eye on the drinking-and-driving law these days, ain’a? Sure as shootin’, more and more people are getting pulled over by the law on suspicion of exceeding the lush limit than they did years ago.

Ray: My sister’s kid just got his driver license and would be new to the trial and tribulation of being stopped by an eagle-eyed traffic officer. So I told him two things right off the bat that you never, ever want to ask suspicious law enforcement: “Could you hold my beer while I find my license?” and “Hey officer, is that a nightstick or are you just glad to see me?”

Emil: No sir, when you’ve been drinking you should not get behind the wheel. And you should not get in front of a wheel either ’cause if you’re focking plastered, you are roadkill, mister.

Herbie: All things equal, the best place to be if you’re going to be putting on the binge is within the friendly confines of your own abode—alone. Makes sense, don’t it? Just set up an ashtray, sit wherever the fock you want, no unsolicited bonehead conversations. Hell, the only jag-off you might encounter is yourself, and you know how to deal with that knobshine—have another cocktail, ain’a?

Little Jimmy: Hey, Artie! Over here. Put a load on your keister.

Art: Hey gents. What do you hear, what do you know.

Ernie: I know it’s a goddamn shame it wasn’t you getting sworn in for the inauguration down in D.C. the other day, Artie.

Ray: He wouldn’t have had time. He’s got his hands full getting sworn at.

Art: Thanks, Ernie. I guess I just didn’t get enough of the illegal immigrant vote, which I hear was huge.

Julius: Those Republicans, they got to suppress all kinds of group votes except the illegal immigrants, and, of course, the focking nutbag white cracker vote.

Little Jimmy: I’m really surprised that Bible didn’t explode when Trump put his dink hand on it, ain’a?

Herbie: And I wouldn’t have been surprised if right after taking the oath of office, Trump would’ve whipped out a pistol and shot the outgoing president. He’d probably say, “Hey, I noticed the black guy going for his pocket. I thought he might pull out a knife like a regular Julius Caesar or something. I stood my ground ’cause I’m, like, really smart. That’s why we’ll make America great again, really great.”

Emil: I’ll bet in one of those alternative factual realities, that happened, ain’a?

(Hey, it’s getting late and I know you got to go, but thanks for letting us bend your ear, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.)