Photo illustration: Dave Zylstra
Art Kumbalek
I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, I hear another Super Bowl Super-Duper Sunday has come and gone, and in regards to the fabulous half-time performance by Bad Bunny et al., “President” Trumpel-thinskin had this to say:
“Nobody understands a word this guy is saying, and the dancing is disgusting, especially for young children that are watching from throughout the U.S.A., and all over the World,” he added.
(“And by all over the World,” I imagine that would include the “late” Jeffrey Epstein’s Caribbean island or other such, dedicated to defile the nubile.)
OK, so let’s breakdown, my homies and homie-ettes:
The Orange Circus Peanut says “Nobody understands a word this guy is saying…)” An obviously rare self-reflective moment, I kid you not.
And, “the dancing is disgusting…” perhaps if Bad Bunny had included more square dance and Virginia reel steps performed by young White Christians, Trumpty-Dumbty’s thirst for a 99% alabaster America would have been temporarily slaked, or something like that.
And just so you’s know, not much for me to say about these Winter Olympics going on ’cause what do I know from? Cripes, the closest I ever got to a pair of skis was way back when I lived in an upper flat above a nice Polish couple. I also vowed years ago to never watch these wintry games until they added some ice fishing events, you betcha.
Yeah yeah, I don’t watch much of the snowy Olympics. What the heck do I know from winter sports? If they had events like Hot Toddy Mixing and the Thermostat Crank I’d tune in, ’cause those are two events I participate in on a daily basis during the wintertime so I’d have some interest, I kid you not.
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But I suppose it’s nice to see that so many of the young, white people have spent their time, effort and ultra-rich parents money to acquire employable marketable skills ’cause I tell you this: Once the final gun sounds on these Games, those kids can write their own ticket ’cause I would imagine no matter how bad the economy sucks, you just got to figure there’s always a need for your biatholinist, your bobsledder, your halfpiper, ain’a?
And before I forget, I hear that Valentine’s Day is upon us. And I’ve read that the ladies really go for a guy with a sense of humor. So gents, how ’bout you try a little humor with your gal when you go out for the fancy-schmancy dinner on Valentine’s, especially if you don’t know her too well. For that reason, I include the following story—to be memorized—so that you don’t get caught with your pants down in the humor department:
This guy goes to the doctor’s the other day ’cause he’s having trouble putting on the big ol’ honking woodie for the ladies. After the exam, the doctor tells him that he’s got a problem with the muscles “down there” and suggests a new experimental treatment for the problem. So the guy goes back the next week and the doctor takes the muscles from the trunk of a baby elephant and implants them in his noodle de la limp.
Couple weeks later the doctor gives him the green light to try out the new equipment. So the guy takes this gal to a fancy restaurant for Valentine’s and right during the middle of the meal, he gets this stirring in the groin area that keeps going on to the point of pain, I kid you not. So to release the pressure, he unzips his fly and lo and behold, his schwanz shoots out of his trousers to the top of the table, grabs a dinner roll and returns to his pants.
The gal could not focking believe it. She says, “Wow, do that again!” And the guy says, “I would, but I don’t think I can I can fit a second roll up my butt.” Ba-ding!
So I got to go. Need to figure out some kind of transportation etc. for these unexpected radiation and chemo treatments on the platter pronto.
Anybody out there knows how to slap together one of these “Go Fund Me” pages, I’m all ears, whose canals remain cancer free and open to passage, so far.
And in conclusion, good luck and god speed with your love and romance for the Valentine’s. And don’t forget what the Greek philosopher Anonymous said about that: “The ideal relationship can only be achieved when one partner is blind, and the other is deaf,” you betcha, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
