Art Kumbalek Millard Fillmore
I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, let us cut to the cheese: 91 focking felony charges… seems like a lot, don’t you think? Cripes, you get nailed as a felon and I’m suspecting your American voting privileges have gone down the toilet to who knows where, which is such a Republican thing.
Yes sir, ladies and gents, Trumpel-thinskin certainly seems to have a situation for himself to deal with on his reportedly small hands, you think?
But the Orange Circus Peanut portends to regain the Oval Office come 2024 so’s to figure a way to load his pocket with even more big-time dough and then blow-up his naysayers whenever they take a seat on one of those airplanes.
So, a second term for this douchebag? Oh, boy. How ’bout we take a gander at a recent report card as to his first term amongst the 40-plus members of his fellow chief exec class. Here:
stacker.com/politics/experts-rank-best-us-presidents-all-time
OK, let me you save precious time. I checked this list for you’s ’cause that’s the kind of reporter news-guy essayist I am. Guess what?
The Donald—not so hoochie-coochie; although I’ll give him credit that he ranked more bestest than James Buchanon (1857-61, the bachelor president, lowest of this ranking, remembered as a guy who knew how to shave his face during a bearded time for the American male, a practice that seemed damn near radical, but not much else)
And, next bottom rankest president: Andrew Johnson (1865-69, took over after Honest Abe got shot dead from a distressed theatregoer, upset that his view was blocked by Abe’s refusal to remove his stovepipe hat. One doesn’t seem to see stovepipe hats often worn these days. Curious. But Johnson was a total idiot dick, as is the current U.S. senior senator from the Badger State of which a surname is shared.)
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OK, I’m scrolling, and next bottom feeder: Franklin Pierce (1853-57, 14th president, “A northern Democrat who believed that the abolitionist movement was a fundamental threat to the nation's unity…”) ’Nuff said.
And wouldn’t you know, the next name of presidential ineffective putzes is… ? Donald J. Trump—a full four-year term so’s to prove his dickness and ineptitude. Yes sir, Trumpkins, ranked behind the likes of William Henry Harrison (March 4, 1841-April 4, 1841, a brief reign cut short because the cough drop had yet been discovered), and, wait for it…
Millard focking Fillmore (1850-53), butt of many presidential jokes and the last member of the Whig party to hold the highest office in our land; although some, like me, make the case, that our present-day Republican Party roasted in the Trumpster-fire may as well be the offspring known as the Wigged Out Party: “mentally or emotionally discomposed: upset, agitated, nervous or frightened, often in a way that is not reasonable.” Check!! What the fock.
And just so you’s knows, if you’re too lazy to check this presidential list all by your lonesome, the top three are the usual suspects: Abraham Lincoln (truth owner), George Wahington (slave owner) and Franklin D. Roosevelt (democracy owner).
OK, enough with the American focking history, as Ron DeLirious would say down there in the Mickey Mouse Sunshine State, hallowed home for seasonal out-of-work circus clowns not to mention on-the-lam serial killers.
Listen, I’ve got to get over by the Uptowner tavern/charm school situated at the hysterical corner by Center & Humboldt there so’s to meet up with my political brain trust and discuss the possibility of me winding up in the White House in some kind of capacity come the 2024 hoedown. Tag along if you like, but you cover the first round. Let’s get going.
Julius: The hell they are.
Emil: The hell they’re not.
Julius: Listen, knobshine. No way in hell can parrots be smarter than chimps. You ever see a parrot smoke a goddamn cigar? You ever see a parrot put on a bell boy’s outfit and then roller skate? You ever see a parrot give a cat a sponge bath? The chimps I’ve seen pull off those focking feats of wonder all the time, I kid you not.
Emil: Oh yeah? Big focking deal. You ever hear a focking monkey actually say, “Fock you”?
Ray: I have. Just now.
Little Jimmy Iodine: Is it just me, or have we actually had this conversation before?
Herbie: Likely so, Jimmy. It may be proof that our universe is not ever-expanding like some rocket scientists believe, where in a couple three trillion years the universe stretches out so much that then no matter remains and all is nothing, kaput. Instead, our conversation may prove that the universe will expand and then stop, only to collapse completely back onto itself all the way to pre-Big Bang, then start up the same way again and repeat itself over and over and over exactly the same way. That means, Jimmy, even if you were to lose that snazzy windbreaker you’re wearing from the old Melody Bar polka extravaganza up on Highway 100, don’t worry, in trillions of years you’ll be back on this bar stool looking sharp, sporting that same windbreaker, talking the same talk, walking the same walk. That’s where déjà vu comes from. On the other hand, there’s only a certain finite number of words in the English language, so it stands to reason that guys will repeat words in the same order once in awhile more often than not.
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Julius: You bet. I can’t tell you’s how many times I’ve told the wife to “give me a focking break” with the words exactly in that order every focking time.
