Art Kumbalek
I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh man manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, I don’t know what the deal is but I cannot think of one thing to write about for you’s this week. I don’t know if it’s so much the writer’s blockhead or that I just don’t focking feel like it. Maybe I ought to give it up for Lent.
Anyways, I’m figuring the surest way out of this predicament is to get together with the guys, soak up a couple, three tall & frostys, and harvest the pure crop that sprouts from the heady and fertile conversational plowing of the events of our day. So, it’s off to the Uptowner tavern/charm school where today is always at least a day before tomorrow, and yesterday may damn well be today. Besides, it’s Presidents’ Day Monday and longstanding tradition dictates me stopping by to celebrate and toast each and every one of our commanders-in-chief, numbers 1 to 44. Tag along if you like, but you cover the first round. Let’s get going.
Emil: Fock you guys. All I’m saying’s that maybe some of these books should be banned for the kids in school, ’cause once you start cramming imagination and curiosity down a kid’s throat, you’ll end up with a kid who is unemployable in the real world.
Little Jimmy Iodine: Did you guys know George Washington had a dog named “Sweet Lips”? I kid you not.
Herbie: I think Clinton had an intern went by the same name, ain’a?
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Ray: Harry Truman had a dog, too. Everybody called her “Mrs. Truman.” Ba-ding!
Ernie: Hey Emil, what’s that on your schnozz?
Emil: Fock you, I’m not falling for that again. I go to the can to check, and you’s guys swipe my bar change.
Julius: Speaking of books, I think maybe the wife’s been reading that Fifty Shades of what-the-fock porno book.
Ernie: How so, Juley?
Julius: I got home from work today and she’s wearing this kind of nightie you see in a catalog. She says, “Tie me up and I’ll let you do anything you want.” So I tied her up and came over here.
Little Jimmy: And did you know that besides crossing the Delaware and chopping down cherry trees ’cause he couldn’t lie, George Washington introduced the jackass to America?
Ray: And that jackass today…
Little Jimmy: Hey, Artie! Over here. Put a load on your keister.
Art: Hey gents, what do you hear, what do you know.
Ernie: I know Emil’s in the can checking his nose. So let me buy you one, Artie. On Emil.
Julius: I’ll tell you, the other night I turn on the local news ’cause I wanted to find out if we’ve gone to all-out war with the ISIS yet.
Herbie: Maybe the president ought to call the head ISIS guy over there in Raqqa and say “Howdy, chief. Got a little riddle for you: What’s one thing Raqqa and Hiroshima have in common? That’s right. Spell them out in American English and they both end with the letter ‘a.’ Now, feel like trying for two things in common?”
Julius: So the news comes on and you know what they got? Ten minutes of knobs shoveling snow, for christ sake. Ten focking minutes of snow shoveling presented by the Storm Team; although they did show one guy with a snow blower, just to present a little balance.
Ray: If they would’ve shown some fockstick painting his garage in February, now that would be news. But snow shoveling in the winter? What the fock, ain’a?
Little Jimmy: Talk about news, I saw this Discovery TV show that said some people think the ancient Egyptians came from another planet and that’s how they knew about building pyramids. Now that’s informative.
Herbie: Yes sir. And they discovered a whole new tomb over there a while back where about 50 sons of this one pharaoh were planted. Ramses the focking Second. He lived from 1304-1237 B.C.; so they think.
Ernie: Yeah, like they had wrist watches to keep time back then, ain’a Herbie?
Herbie: Shut up. They said this guy Ramses actually probably had upwards 100 sons. I tell you, they might’ve known how to put up a pyramid, but they sure didn’t know focking squat how to put on a rubber.
Ernie: Cripes, that Mrs. Ramses must’ve been one busy lady, ain’a? A hundred sons. How do you think up names for all those kids?
Herbie: You focking idiot. Those pharaohs back then had as many wives as they could stand. One hundred wives if they wanted, I shit you not.
Ray: Focking-A, that’s too many mummies for just one daddy, I don’t care who you are, ain’a?
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(OK, this is going late and I know you got to go, but thanks for letting us bend your ear ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.)