Photo: Jeffrey Hamilton - Getty Images
Art Kumbalek wedding cake
I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, here we be into the month of June, fresh of the occasional “merry” month of May, which also means we’re now into that time of year where my two most favorite words are “cold front” as pronounced by our TV weather guys and gals, I kid you not. I’ll tell you’s, these next couple, three summertime months during which a guy can’t even blow his nose without some fockstick wanting to put on an outdoors festival about it, do definitely not comprise my favorite time of year, no sir.
Hey, forget about it. On those days that could even make Satan suffer (in my book, anything above a nice 73 degrees), I suppose I could echo the party line and agree that “it’s not the heat; it’s the humidity.” But I won’t. Because it is the heat. And it’s the stupidity, of you’s who spent the quiet winter months indoors in climate-controlled comfort whilst all-the-time longing to feel like a focking pig hoist on a spit and rotated over a steam-furnace flame come the summer, what the fock.
So, as I was saying, it’s June, that time of year for young ladies to become new brides; and their boyfriends to become new grooms, whether they like it or not. And so June, as the years pass, does become the month for anniversaries, the remembrance pleasant, or bittersweet, as in this little story:
So this guy goes to the Wizard to ask him if he can remove a curse he has been living with for the past 40 years. The Wizard says, “Perhaps, but you will have to tell me the exact words that you believe were used to put the curse on you.” And without hesitation, the man says, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”Ba-ding!
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Or this one:
A doctor at a health conference said, “The material we put into our stomachs is enough to have killed most of us years ago. Red meat is awful. Soft drinks corrode your stomach lining. Chinese food is loaded with MSG. High-fat diets can be destructive, and none of us realizes the long-term harm caused by the germs in our drinking water. But there is one thing that is the most dangerous of all. Can anyone tell me what food it is that causes the most grief and suffering for years after eating it?”
After a period of silence, an elderly man in the front row raised his hand and softly said, “Wedding cake.” Ba-ding!
And let’s not forget that June also brings us Father’s Day, and here’s an idea for what you’s ought to do come Father’s Day if you’re too focking cheap to spring for a cheap-ass gift for the old fart. How ’bout you make a nice homemade card to send. I even got a nice sentiment you can write down in it. It’s a quote from no finer writer there ever be than dear Mr. William Butler Yeats from near Dublin, who will celebrate his 158th birthday, June 13, as best he can:
I have certainly known more men destroyed by the desire to have a wife and child and to keep them in comfort than I have seen destroyed by drink and harlots.
A-focking-men. Happy Father’s Day. And if that doesn’t cheer dad up, then tell him the following little story on the phone when you call him to say you can’t drop by on the Sunday ’cause you got more important things to do:
So this foursome of guys are on the first tee. As the fourth guy is smack in the middle of his backswing, a funeral procession passes by on the road that runs alongside the tee. The guy drops his club, takes off his golf cap and places it over his heart until the line of cars recedes from sight.
The other three guys can’t believe it and are beside themselves in awe and admiration. After the round was over, one of them says to Mr. Respect-for-the-Dead, “Jeez louise, Hank, that was an honorable thing you did back there on the first tee.” Hank says, “You mean when the funeral passed by? Thanks, but I figured it was the least I could do. After all, I was married to her for 42 years.” Ba-ding!
And as for me, yes, then, of father, of son, this time of year, I’ll be seeing you, as the song goes, in all the old familiar places, in every lovely summer’s day; I remember you, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek, and I told you so.
