I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what aworld, ain’a? And what a chock-packed full-jammed issue this week, what withthe “best this” and “best that,” I tell you.
And I’d just like to say to any of you’s out therewho actually had the cotton-focking-picking time to pencil down a vote in all160 goddamn categories, that I sincerely hope you become eligible for parolesoon, and that you are then granted the privilege once again to use your timemore wisely as a productive member of society, god bless.
Anyways, I got to keep this essay short on accountof the fact that last evening was the Shepherd-sponsored Milwaukee Reader Pollsoiree for the nominees, winners, hangers-on and assorted focking freeloadersdown by the nicely appointed InterContinental Hotel, and right now I’m sportingBest Hangover.
Just kidding, about the hangover. No way in hell aguy gets hungover, whilst meeting and greeting, from sipping three-and-a-halfgallons of the fabulous Art Kumbalek’s Focktoberfest beer brewed by the sudsysavants at Lakefront Brewery, Milwaukee’s finest, you betcha. Just notpossible.
Anyways, about this Best of Milwaukee schmutz: Icannot imagine any guy or gal not behind bars having the time to dick aroundwith the big, honking ballot that this newspaper wanted you to fill out acouple, three weeks ago that has resulted in the galore 72-page issue you areby now sick and tired of reading. But if you were a fancy-free voter and yethad the timeand took itto knock off the entire ballot, I’d sure like to knowhow you, as an elector, feel that the one category you’d be most familiar withwasn’t even included: Best Mental Health cum Straitjacket Facility.Disappointed?
And likewise for you certifiably incarcerated conswho receive this publication and had the patience to go the whole nine yardswith the voting’cause what the fock, as if you had something better to dobesides spit on a guard or bugger the new guy, ain’a?yes, I feel yourdisappointment that when you looked under “Services Rendered,” there was nocategory for “Best Correctional Facility.”
Hell, even in Heaven I’ll bet you a buck two-eightyyou couldn’t come up with one-hundred-and-sixty particulars in which you coulddream up a “Best of All the Rest.” I’m thinking if they ran one of these pollsup there in Kingdom Come, they’d be in a pickle but good to come up with anycategory to vote in other than “Best ethereal firmament in which to hobnob witha bunch of boring-ass harp-plucking pious jags the rest of eternity, and thensome.”
But this is Beertown, baby, and you bet that’s whywe drink it here. Yeah, the City that Always Sweeps, the greatest city in thesolar system besides maybe Vegas. And I cannot focking believe that they couldmake up only a measly 160 partitions within this Best of Milwaukee structure,when in our town every single second, no matter what you do, what you see orwhere you go, the one thing you got to say is, “Jeez louise I tell you, thatwas just the focking best, I kid you not.”
No sir, you could have a thousand categories and itstill wouldn’t serve justice for all the Best-ness this city down by a lakecould pony up if one would only take a gander.
That’s what I’d like to think. And I’d like to thinkthat what, and who, is best about our town might be somehow one of thoserenewable resources. But I don’t know. On the first Friday of this month whilein denial that on paper I had become one-year older, I got the news that MaryAnne McNulty had died.
Good lord, what a gal, what a pistol, Mary Anne,beautiful saint from the 12th District on our city’s so-called Common Councilwho kicked all butt that needed kicking, and if you had a problem with that,she would tell you to kiss her sweet Blarney Stone ass. For me, there willnever be mention of a “Best of Milwaukee” anywhere that does not include theremembrance of Mary Anne.
In the movie Casablanca,Rick says to Ilsa that the “problems of two little people don’t amount to ahill of beans in this crazy world.” Maybe it’s the romantic in me, but I seemto recall that Mary Anne would call that bullshit, agree that the world wascrazy, and then do what she could to help the people get up the hill, of beansor not.
Yeah, Mary Anne, I’m here, you’re there, but we’llalways have Water Street,ain’a, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
