Future Tense

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Art Kumbalek

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, right now for me it’s election day Tuesday, Nov. 4, and I’m sitting here with the heebie-jeebies on account of wondering if the nationwide Republicans along with our own Gov. Snidely Whiplash will somehow manage to swipe another midterm election, what the fock.

At the time you’s take a gander at this page, you’ll know all about it. One could say that my right-now present is your past, and your right-now present is my future, or something like that. One could also say that sounds good and goddamn too complicated so focking forget about it, which is exactly what I will say: Sounds good and goddamn too complicated so focking forget about it.

Speaking of time, how ’bout that extra hour we picked up last Sunday? Hope you put it to good use. I thought I’d cram in some reading and started an article about some sect that believes Jesus is coming back to Earth any day now—’natch, I immediately stopped reading. Ever since catechism class during my early scholastic time served at Our Lady In Pain That You Kids Are Going Straight To Hell But Not Soon Enough, I avoid reading anything about Christ out of fear that no matter what, somehow it’s going to wind up with me on the receiving end of a swiftly well-placed yard-long ruler across the knuckles or noggin, for christ sakes.

But I’d like to advise those who believe that the Jesus could show up at any time, to get the word to him to ix-nay making a grand entrance on the evening of an Oct. 31 like we had just the other day, and here’s why.

I do not believe that back in Christ’s day, they celebrated the Halloween quite the way we do in the modern day, certainly not with as much gusto, ain’a? Cripes, if he showed up on Madison’s State Street in the middle of the Halloween hoo-ha—what with all the knuckleheads parading around as ghouls, ghosts, porn stars, witches, zombies, guillotine victims, sexy nurses, Dick Nixons—heck, a sight like that would sure put the fear of the lord into a guy even if he was the lord to begin with, I kid you not.

And when people talk about the Lord returning, I’m never sure if they mean he’s going to start out as a baby in the manger like the first time, or is he supposed to return as a regular-age guy like he was when he left, ’cause unless he was able to watch some wide-ass HDTV up in heaven that covered everything that’s been going on since his untimely departure, he’s got a lot to learn to just catch up—like geography, to wit: the world is round now.

I imagine there may be tons more opportunity for a young guy with some talent and gumption today as compared to the olden days of 2,000 years ago. Still, I’m hoping if the Jesus does come back, he comes back as a baby and gets a chance to grow up all over again ’cause those are the golden years. What the fock, I wouldn’t mind getting a crack at it myself, to tell you the truth.

But being God’s son and all, he’ll come back and probably get railroaded into the ministry racket, and gosh darn if that doesn’t seem like a field that’s overbooked solid, ain’a? But here’s my prayer, if the Christ does come back, maybe out of the goodness of his heart he could haul Albert Einstein, Charles Darwin and Frank Zappa along with him. Now there’s a couple, three guys who could really kick some ignorant butt these days I tell you—and kick it for everybody, not just Christians.

And speaking of Jesus H. Christ, I’m reminded of a little story:

A very spiritual and holy priest dies and is swept up to heaven. St. Peter greets him at the Pearly Gates and says, “Hello Father, welcome! You are very well known here, and as a special reward because you are such a devout man, we will grant you anything you wish even before we enter the Kingdom. What can I grant you?”

And the priest says, “I am a great admirer of the Virgin Mother. I’ve always wanted to talk to her.” St. Pete nods his head to one side, and lo and behold who should approach the priest but the Virgin Mary!

The priest is overcome with joy and says, “Mother, I have always been a great admirer of yours and followed your life as best I could. I have studied everything I could about you—every painting and portrait ever made of you, and I’ve noticed without fail that you are portrayed bearing a wistful expression. Forever I’ve wondered what it was that made you seemingly so melancholy.” And Mother Mary says, “Honestly, I was really hoping for a girl.”

Ba-ding! ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so