Don’ts and a Do

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Art Kumbalek

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, as our hellish summertime days have curved the corner toward the more tolerable intersection of Fall & Autumn Leaves, I thought that instead of an expected and appreciated noggin-busting essay on the current chaotic ways of the world, I’d trot out a nice list I provide for you’s readers once in a while of “don’ts” to help ensure that the remaining days, weeks, of your simmering season are safe and perhaps even tolerable, what the fock.

About a Hundred Things Not To Do the Rest of Summertime

Do Not:

• Drown, be it lake, pond, backyard pool; although sitting in a chair, filled with despair, haunted with reveries of days gone by is not entirely a bad way to go. You betcha.
• Ride a bicycle or some-such on a city sidewalk whilst you got that gosh darn million-dollar bike lane right/left of you’s, beep-focking-beep.
• Have a buddy putting all the cocktails on his tab and at some point during the evening before bar time you say, “No thanks, I’ve had enough.”
• Watch any streaming movie with a “Dame” so-and-so somebody in it clinking teacups unless you got the insomnia bad.
• Get stinking drunk in a boat out on the water and I’ll tell you why. I knew these three guys years ago up there by Hayward who went out fishing along with a couple, three cases of ice-cold bottled beer. So they’re out there all goddamn day catching nothing but deerflies and one hell of a buzz under the hot sun. Eventually, one of the tipsy trio stands up to take a leak, loses his balance and flips head-over-heels right over the side of the boat into the water and starts to sink.

The other two sportsmen are so blasted that they don’t even notice their buddy has jumped ship until maybe a half-hour later. No sooner do they realize that they’re no longer three-men-in-a-tub but two, do they then dive into the water and frantically grope around for the missing mariner. Eventually, one of the loopy lifeguards grabs ahold of his overboard buddy down deep, hauls him into the boat and commences with the mouth-to-mouth.

“Jesus H. Christ!” he says, recoiling in revulsion. “I don’t remember Corky’s breath stinking to the high heaven like this, do you?” And the other guy says, “Fock no. And not only that, I don’t remember him wearing that snowmobile suit, either!” Ba-ding!

• Tell your girlfriend you can’t take her kids to the church festival ’cause you got a hot date with her sister.
• Forget to tip your server, whenever, wherever.
• Make an appointment for a routine medical checkup. It’s a no-win situation. If you’re feeling OK and you go to the doctor’s and he says you’re OK, what have you gained? Not a focking thing, but you certainly have lost time and money. Now, if you go and the doc says, “Uh-oh, we got a problem here,” well, now not only do you have a problem but you’re bound to be depressed about it, and who in their right mind needs that kind of combo? You tell me.
• Walk into a biker bar and shout, “Hey, which one of you cand-asses used to own the wuss Electra Glide out front I just backed into with my Chevy Volt?”
• Order a salad instead of a steak.
• Find a pair of bum’s underwear on the street near a dumpster and wear them before laundering.
• Forget about performing at least one good deed daily.
• Get sick without health insurance or get sick with health insurance. Their cash register will ring coming and going and your pocket will be empty.
• Vote Republican on your absentee mail-in ballot or whatever else you got.
• Just stand there.

Hold the curtain, here’s one nice DO for you’s:

Do not forget the German Fest down by the lakefront this weekend. In fact, my buddy Little Jimmy Iodine should be calling me mach schnell so’s we can make plans to march to the Summerfest grounds where for three days the musical squeeze box will be king, or perhaps kaiser, and they used to have the guy who’d guess your age and weight, but for the ladies the weight would always be the same—“she’s too fat for me.” Ba-ding!

And if you gents plan to don the lederhosen, remember that cultural tradition has it they are not to be cleaned, ever, as evidenced in this story:

So this guy from Bavaria goes to the doctor for a checkup. Doctor examines him and says that he needs to give a blood sample, a semen sample, urine and stool sample, so further tests can be run. The Bavarian nods, removes his lederhosen and hands them to the nurse. Ba-ding!

And let us not forget the definition of a gentleman (der Herr): One who knows how to play the accordion, but doesn’t. Ba-ding! (Entschuldigung mein Kumpel, Grant K., I had to go there. I owe you one, so here it is: How do you know when a sax player is at your door? They don’t know which key to use or when to enter. Ba-ding-ding-ding!).

Weiter! ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.