Bidin' This Time

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Photo illustration by Melissa Johnston

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, “Lions and tigers and bears. Oh My!” “Lying and COVID and fears. Oh My!” “Trump and Supreme Court and four-more-years. Oh My!” And then I’d click my heels together and say, “There’s no place like home,” and that imaginary home would be late the year 2000, a year that somehow the Supreme Court didn’t fock up the Florida vote in W.’s illegitimate favor (yes, 2000, Bush v. Gore, and not 2020 as I mistakenly cited last week, subsequently corrected to me by my friend, German Joe) so that Al Gore would have been president, and then through sane and responsible Democratic governance, these years later would have found 2020 to be abso-focking-lutely copacetic rather than the shitstorm we must all brace ourselves against, I kid you not.

(Cripes, excuse me, I just soiled my BVDs, gotta make a change. Be right back. Thank the good lord that so far there’s not been a run on Wet Ones canisters at the grocery store, what the fock.)

(And speaking of mistaken, another break here for me to apologize to my long-time friend, Sonia, for my unexpected off-the-wall political outburst during her quintessential “Blues Drive” radio show last Friday afternoon broadcast on America’s greatest radio station, WMSE 91.7FM. This year of 2020, I’m certainly having difficulty keeping the devil down in the hole; which I offer as a poor excuse for being out-of-line and losing my whereabouts. I am sorry, Sonia.)

(And speaking of friends, I send a heartfelt “thank-you” for the gracious B-day card I received from El Jefe out there and down by, in and around, your Bethesda located in the Old Line State, also known as Maryland, birth state for Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, Thurgood Marshall, Nancy Pelosi, Frank Zappa, Kevin Durant, and so on—no need to mention John Wilkes Booth and Spiro Agnew, here, and so I won’t. Thank you, Jefe, and yes indeed I do see a boatload of Old Crow sailing down the river of the liver Kumbalek as soon as I knock off this fakakta essay, if not before.)

Hold on, this just in: “NASA confirms there is water on the moon…” How ’bout that? This being 2020, however, I’m somewhat surprised they also didn’t find Sharon Stone’s underpants, a mint-condition ’57 Chevy Bel Air and Jimmy Hoffa, what the fock.

Anyways, here we be, a handful of days and nights away from the Nov. 3 when the unthinkable could remain unthinkable, again. So what with the Halloween and this goddamn election coming up like a bad burrito, you could say that I’m spending my time by whistling past the graveyard. Although, with the Halloween, my heebie-jeebies are on low simmer this year, being that the katzenjammer trick-or-treat day won’t be such a thing what with the pandemic, which means I save a heck of a lot of time and effort from preparing the mashed potatoes and creamed corn I’d usually set outside my door for the youthful door-to-door beggars.

And what tune might I be whistling past that graveyard that could be named Democracy come Nov. 4? Thanks for asking. Why, it’s a tune by George Gershwin and his lovely wife, Ira, (yes sir, some jokes never get old, but some do, like this one) called “Bidin’ My Time” (I remember that the John Schneider Orchestra always did a nice rendition of it), written for the 1930 musical Girl Crazy, which also featured “Embraceable You,” “I Got Rhythm” and “But Not For Me,” what the fock.

Since “Bidin’ My Time” is not a song you’re going to hear on the radio every day or even once in a while, here’s the lyrics, just so you know:

(Verse)

Some fellows love to tiptoe through the tulips

Some fellows go on singing in the rain

Some fellows keep on painting skies with sunshine

Some fellows must go swinging down the lane

(Chorus)

But I’m bidin’ my time

’Cause that’s the kind of guy I’m

While other folks grow dizzy

I keep busy

Bidin’ my time

Next year, next year

Somethin’s bound to happen

This year, this year

I’ll just keep on mappin’

And bidin’ my time

‘Cause that’s the kind of guy I’m

There’s no regrettin’

When I’m settin’

Bidin’ my time

I’m bidin’ my time

’Cause that’s the kind of guy I’m

Beginnin’ on a Monday

Right through Sunday

Bidin’ my time

Give me, give me

Glass that’s bright and twinkles

Let me, let me

Dream like Rip Van Winkle

He’s bided his time

Like that Winkle guy

I’m chasin’ ’way flies

How the day flies

Bidin’ my time

Good lord, it just occurred to me that some of you’s may not be all that familiar with the melody, so this is what you do: Go to that YouTube on your internet, then look for the following:

Sarah Vaughan:

Ella Fitzgerald:

Judy Garland (clip from the movie version of Girl Crazy)

So, there you go. Now you’ve got a nice song to sing while you go to VOTE as if your life depended on it ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.

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