Gobble Gobbull

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I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? And for our valiant big buck hunters up a tree or scattered to and fro across Badgerland’s hills and dales presently, here’s a story that never fails to put the guys in the mood for a night of beer-bingeing after a long day outdoors shooting at each other:

A group of hunters always go up to the same spot every year for a three-day weekend. Each morning they’d pair off in twos for the hunt. Well sir, one early evening one of the guys came back alone, huffing and puffing and dragging a huge 10-point buck. The other guys wanted to know where Jerry was and the guy dragging the deer said that Jerry had a stroke or maybe a heart attack, couple miles back. “What the fock, you left Jerry lying there in the cold and the dark and dragged the deer back instead?” And the guy says, “Yeah, it was a tough call but I figured no one would steal Jerry, so what the fock.”

And before I forget, about the president’s immigration speech last week, I was reminded of a little story:

So this guy on a bike is carrying two sacks on his shoulders when he’s stopped by a Border Patrol agent while crossing the U.S.-Mexican border. “What’s in the bags?” the agent asks. “Sand,” the guy on the bike says.

The agent wants to check the contents of the bag so he empties them and finds that they contain nothing but sand. The bike guy reloads the bags and continues across the border. A week later, the same guy’s crossing the border again with two more bags. The agent demands to see them, and again they contain nothing but sand. This continues every week for six months, until one day the bike guy doesn’t show up. Few days later, that same Border patrol agent runs into the bike guy at a soccer game.

The agent says, “Hey buddy, how you been? Listen, I know you had to be smuggling something across the border. Just between you and me, what the heck was it?” The other guy smiles and whispers, “Bicycles.” Ba-ding!

Anyways, don’t expect much of an essay this week from me for your freeloading Thanksgiving-holiday needs, no sir. I don’t have time to self-importantly gasbag some kind of treacly tripe about what we all have to be thankful for, what the fock. My personal Thankful List runs from A to A, with A being that I’m thankful I’m not serving hard time with no chance for parole.

That’s because I got to get to the store and pick up fixings for my Thanksgiving feast, for which I enjoy boiling up a nice ring baloney because I cannot eat turkey out of respect for our Founding Fathers who dang near made it our national bird for christ sakes—I’m guessing because of the turkey’s much ballyhooed beauty and intelligence, what the fock.

Besides, it’s been my experience that regular readers aren’t up to navigating my little section of this here back page this time of year anyways on account of either being struck down by the dropsies from the too-much holiday feasting or they’re busy navigating their way out of county jail due to the aggravated battery charge acquired right before the pumpkin pie was served at the extended-family Thanksgiving get-together. Yeah, I know, sometimes the in-laws really do deserve what’s coming to them, civil ordinance be damned, what the fock.

But before I go, it’s a yearly tradition of mine to provide to those of you’s who indeed may read this page before trotting off to your Thanksgiving obligation, a little something you can take along and share at your gathering, so you don’t just show up empty-handed as the free-loading fockstick your relatives, friends and acquaintances have come to expect, if not dread. So if you’re too damn lazy or depressed to bring a dish to pass, a humorous story would be a nice alternative, ain’a? And speaking of agents:

A rather confident British Secret Service Agent 007 walks into a bar and takes a seat next to a very attractive woman. He gives her a quick glance and casually looks at his watch. The woman notices and slyly inquires, “Is your date running late?” “No,” he replies, “I’m here alone. My research-and-development man has just given me this state-of-the-art watch and I was testing it.” Intrigued, the woman asks, “A state-of-the-art watch? What’s so special about it?”

007 explains, “It uses alpha waves to telepathically talk to me.” She breathlessly wants to know what the watch is telling him now, and he replies, “It says you’re not wearing any panties.” The woman smiles and says, “Well then, it must be broken because I am wearing panties.” 007 taps his watch twice and says, “Damn thing must be an hour fast.” Ba-ding!

I’ve got to go, but 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.