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Art Kumbalek

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, I understand that the Conservative Political Action Conference 2021 (acronym CPAC, or as some in my neck-of-the-blue-woods would understand the acronym to represent this: Corrupt/Pathological/Asshole/Conspiracists) held their annual confab down there in Orlando, Fla. last weekend. (Florida being the appropriate locale, in that with my limited knowledge of the Spanish language, I seem to recall that “Florida” is the Spanish word for “serial killer,” or perhaps it was “circus clown,” what the fock.)

Which reminds me of some investigating I turned up, me, being such the investigative reporter. What I discovered goes something like this, please follow:

I am not at liberty to name the park, but just between me and you’s, let me tell you I heard rumors that Donald Duck’s addicted to quack and has taken to showing up for work completely naked instead of only pants-less. Also, I’ve heard the Mouse (who often goes by the name of “Mickey”) is going through an ugly divorce that has wreaked havoc as well as dicked with the delicate character-chemistry so necessary to maintain a successful magical mechanism bonded by fantastical animism and the wishful dream to stupendously lighten the vacationer’s wallet, makes no difference who you are.

An acquaintance of mine down there told me that at a recent divorce hearing, the Mouse (otherwise known as “Mickey”) was trying to convince a judge to grant him a divorce from the Mrs. (otherwise known as Minnie). The judge at one point said, “I’m sorry, Mickey. But your claim that Minnie is crazy is not sufficient ground upon which I can grant a divorce.” Mickey sought to clarify the situation, “Now just one cotton-picking minute by golly there, your honor. I didn’t say she was ‘crazy’—I said she was focking Goofy. And if you don’t grant me a divorce, then I’ll sue the pants off that dog for ‘alienation of affection,’ I kid you not, ha-ha.”

Such is life in the small world.

But where was I? Yes, the C-focking-PAC. Apparently they tooled around the convention grounds a golden statue of the Trumpel-thinskin, a lot like the old-school Israelites paraded the golden calf as Joseph Biden climbed the mount of the Electoral College, if they had had such a college back then, or something like that.

Anyways, I noticed a list of names of featured speakers scheduled to blowhard at this fascist nutjob conference held right outside of Disney World and noticed that neither Mickey Mouse nor Goofy were scheduled to address the very pale attendees; however, cartoon characters representing the kind of supreme callous (Elmer Fudd?) ineptitude that Bugs Bunny (a true patriot, he even fought a Martian, what the fock) always battled, were lined up and down the docket. Here’s a couple, three:

Fla. Gov. Ron DeSantis (there’s nothing I wouldn’t do that I wouldn’t do as long as it allowed me to plant my lips upon the fantastically ampled ass possessed by Mr. Donald Trump).

Former “Gov.” Scott Walker (to be perfectly cast as villain Snidely Whiplash in the long-waited motion-picture fling at reviving the ’60s TV series “Dudley Do-Right").

Fla. Rep. Matt Gaetz (I’m looking into a crystal ball, and I see a straitjacket worn in a room with padded walls in this man’s future; don’t forget the muzzle.)

Senator Ted Cruz (“Got my shoes shined, bags packed…”).

Ala. Rep. Mo “Slow” Brooks (there’s just go to be a Curly and Shemp stuck on this guy’s family tree, I’m thinking).

N.C. Rep. Madison Cawthorn (“The South Shall Rise Again, and if justice prevails, we’ll have Barack Obama picking cotton for a dollar a day.”)

Ark. Senator Tom Cotton (“Ditto, I say, in respect to the late, irate patriot Rush Limbaugh. And don’t forget that a Benjamin Rush signed the Declaration of Independence; so Rush-Rush, need I say more?”)

AND, Donald Trump Jr. (You are focking kidding me. This guy? To address? To “talk”? The Fredo of the Trump crime family? “I’m SCHMART.” Good lord.”

And onto the health front, I hope that all of you’s are getting lined up to receive a Corona vaccination pronto. Being the alte kakker that I am, lo, these days, I got me the first of two vaccinations for this fershlugginer COVID the other day, and just as I suspected, there was no ice-cold bottle of Pabst Blue Ribbon offered with which to chase down the shot, what the fock. Good news, though, was that I seem to have experienced no untoward side-effects following administration of the needle; neither did I begin to cluck and ambulate as a barnyard chicken nor did I believe that I was the reincarnation of Napoléon Bonaparte, the height-challenged French guy; however, I did acquire a persistent earworm to the tune of “The Ballad of the Green Berets” that lasted most of a day—for sure, not a pleasant experience.

And speaking of extremely undesired earworms: Billy Joel, the pop-format filcher, his entire catalog, to the max—I get one of his tunes in my earworm head and I’m putting on my imaginary angel wings so’s to fly off the fourth-floor roof atop my dinky apartment down to the pavement below to the revised lyric and title, now called “Only the Old Die Old,” what the fock.

So, now as an experienced vaccinatee, I’ll tell you’s that if you experience a pernicious side-effect of earworm—it could be the Ohio Express with “Yummy Yummy Yummy”; Tiny Tim’s “Tiptoe Through the Tulips”; the “Gilligan’s Island” theme; “Dominique” by The Singing Nun; Eddie Murphy and “Party All the Time” (good god, even the devil wouldn’t wish you this ear-worm, probably); “Watching Scotty Grow,” think I’ll pass on that watch, Bobby Goldsboro, and thank you not for “Honey,” just so you know; “You Light Up My Life” by the Debby Boone, and “You Are So Beautiful,” Joe Crocker, not to mention “Precious and Few” by some who-the-fock group called Climax; Terry Jacks’ “Seasons in the Sun”; anything by Guess Who or Nickelback—it most likely will vanish within 24 hours, the lord willin’.

And who knows, you may be a fortunate one who gets something by Thelonious Monk stuck in your ear, and if you do, you are guaranteed an epistrophatically misterioso day, so enjoy, and get that vaccination soon’s you can, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.