I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, I hear another Earth Day has come and gone, and what with the ferkakta weather going on for a couple, three years at least, you got to wonder how many more we may have left, what the fock.
As usual, I did not do much celebrating of the day and don’t expect to in the future, if there is one. As I’ve said many times, until they make Earth Day the kind of official holiday for which you get a paid eight hours off from your crappy job so’s you can go visit relatives and drink their beer all day, I won’t be putting on the party hat.
And speaking of the Earth, I’ve been reading a lot lately about our astronomers getting closer and closer to finding a bunch of Earth-like planets out there in Star Trek land because of hot-shot upgrades with the telescopes and what-not—and I say “Hold your horses, Professor Frink.” I’ll tell you’s, if we find a planet loaded with people just like us, we’re in big trouble big-time, I kid you not.
I remember a TV show on the Discovery Channel a while back where the eminent rocket-scientist Stephen Hawking—a brainiac bon vivant whose résumé includes every goddamn thing with the exception of a guest spot on “Dancing With the Stars”—declared that intelligent life from other cosmos could be, well, dangerous.
He said visitors to our fair planet from outer space could be “nomads, looking to conquer and colonize.” Yeah, focking swell. And I agree—not just “conquer and colonize,” but how ’bout these technologically advanced aliens might hail from a resource-depleted corner of a solar system and so they got to be looking for new nutrient food sources.
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Could we, the sapien race of human beings, become the “chickens” who be sliced, diced, chopped, seasoned and fried to be served on a fast-food sandwich to 12-foot aliens who sport bald large-cranium brains the size of elite university-library globes of the planet Earth?
You betcha, we can. And all I can say is it’s time to be no longer singly Native Americans, Native Mexicans, Africans, Euro-focking-peans, Muslim-and-large, native blah-blah and blah-blah. No sir, time to be collectively Native Earthlings ’cause those alien extraterrestrials from the planet You Are Focked Up the Ass, Earthling Losers are due any day now, and the first thing they want to do is reach up and tear our livers right clean out of our assholes, besides screw our Earth women three-ways sideways ’til Sunday. As human beings, we ought to be good and gosh-darn familiar with that kind of modus operandi, ain’a?
Anyways, here on Earth I’ve been hearing that a lot of people think this campaign for the presidency has just been one long joke. And if it has, to me it’s not been a very funny one. So, I do believe it’s time to visit Kumbalek’s Komedy Korner where perhaps a couple, three little stories may let a smile be your Trumprella.
Speaking of The Donald, here’s one he could use at one of his mosh-pit rallies about his plan to replace Obamacare:
So this surgeon goes to examine his blonde patient after an operation. Doctor says, “You’ll be fine.” She says, “Thank you, doctor. But how long will it be before I’m able to have a normal sex life again?” The doctor hesitates to answer so the gal says, “Doctor, what’s the matter? I will be all right, won’t I?” Doctor says, “Yes, of course you’ll be fine. It’s just that no one has ever asked me that question after having their tonsils out.” Ba-ding!
For you soon-to-be gainfully employed philosophy majors:
A Zen master from the Far East was visiting New York City. He approaches a hotdog street vendor and says, “Make me one with everything.” The vendor fixes a hotdog and hands it to the master, who pays with a $20 bill. The vendor puts the bill in the cash box and closes it.
Time passes.
“Where is my change?” the Zen master asks. And the hotdog vendor says, “Change must come from within.” Ba-ding!
Here’s one the kids could enjoy:
“How come Raggedy Ann got banned from the toy chest? Give up? ’Cause she kept sitting on Pinocchio’s face, saying, ‘Lie to me, lie to me, damn it!’”
Hey, with Mother’s Day right around the corner, I will leave you with this little story:
Two old friends meet each other on the street. The one says to the other, “What brings you my way today, after so long?” The other says, “I’m coming from the cemetery. I just buried my mother-in-law.” The one says, “I’m sorry to hear the news. But why is your face scratched all over?” And the other says, “The burial was difficult. She put up a hell of a fight.”
Ba-ding! ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
