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Art Kumbalek calendar
I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, I hear it’s already the 11th month of the year, the one we call November (from the Latin novem meaning “nine” (yeah, go figure, was the gang who in the olden, olden days slapped together the calendar we use today the ancient forefathers of those who designed the Ford Edsel or who determine what constitutes an acceptable pass reception in the National Football League?). For christ sakes, didn’t we just have Halloween and now out-of-the-blue we got November to deal with? How time flies, what the fock?
Yeah yeah, November, and as I check my so-called calendar, I see we got a month that includes All Saints’ Day; All Souls’ Day (a day that I learned during my scholastic purgatorial period back at Our Lady In Pain That You Kids Are Going Straight To Hell But Not Soon Enough we ought to pray for the souls receiving an ass-kicking comeuppance in purgatory); a birthday for yours truly (cold cash in a thoughtful card appreciated); a mid-term election whence if Republicans take over either the House or Senate, or both, prepare for a quick ride to democratic hell; a Daylight Saving Tie adjustment ( we pick up an extra hour, an hour which I plan to finally start and finish Finnegans Wake); big-buck Bambi-dad deer slaughtering; Thanksgiving; Black Friday shopping (I take a 44-42 regular in a nice sport coat and can always use a fresh pack of cushy white socks, thank you).
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And, just so you’s know, we’re talking about November on this page but I’m flipping this essay together at the end of September due to deadline/printing schmutz. Cripes, by the time you read this palaver, I could be dropped over deader than doornail, how ’bout that? You may have read my obit before you read this page. Yeah, the obit with the headline “Art Kumbalek,” and then continues for a while downhill from there. Good lord, I haven’t even thought of an epitaph for the gravestone yet; although, I am leaning toward something like this: “Your call is important to us. Please remain on the line, and someone will be with you shortly,” or, “Anybody got a light?” or, “I knew I should’ve looked both ways, goddamn it.”
And of the Thanksgiving, as always, I’ll be thankful that I’ve never had to tell a judge this: “But your honor, I swear I heard her say she was 18.”
Of course, there are a couple, three perennials that could happen in the future I would be thankful for: Former “President” Trumpel-thinskin doing the perp walk sporting a nice pair of fool’s gold handcuffs. Yours truly wins a $3 billion Megabucks lottery drawing, because I could really use the dough. Aaron Rodgers leads the Green Bay Packers to victory in Super Bowl 57.
Which reminds me, how ’bout I give you a little something you can take along and share at your gathering the fourth thankful Thursday of November so’s you don’t show up empty-handed like some kind of freeloading fockstick. If you’re too damn lazy to bring a dish or gallon of bourbon, a humorous story would be a nice alternative, you betcha. It goes something like this:
So these two ladies fall off a hiking cliff to their death and are waiting in purgatory to hear the results of their life audit. A door opens and two men enter. An angel walks in with an ugly, gremlin of a man. The angel says “Nancy, in 1982 you ran over a duck with you SUV, your punishment will be to spend your eternal life with this pustule of a man” He slaps the shackles on each of their arms and are sent off together for eternity. Later, an angel walks in with a gorgeous hunky dude. He slaps the shackle on Alice and the handsome man and she are sent on their way. During their walk, she’s thinking she must have been a good person during her life on Earth, when she’s interrupted by the man’s muttering: “I knew I shouldn’t have killed that duck.” Ba-ding!
And in conclusion, let me say that wherever you find yourself this Thanksgiving holiday, god speed and remember to fight the good fight ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
