It’s Fruitcake Weather, You Betcha

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Art Kumbalek

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, first off needs to be a big honking thank you from me to my constant reader and friend, El Jefe—from all the way out of the 2018 Zip Code in The Free State—for sending me a fan-focking-tastically decorated big box full of holiday liquid cheer. It is very much appreciated and has already been put to necessary use as deemed fit, which is repeatedly.

The Jef’ also complimented me on the accuracy of my “Look Ahead” prediction from way back last early January that the year 2020 would suck even more than the year 2019 did. Thank you. And he suggested that 2021 could suck even more what with “those knobshines in Congress and state legislatures getting a good head-start promoting plague and unemployment and evictions.” Yes sir, I, too, fear that 2021 will be no focking prize with the possible exception of a hoped-for photo during the year of Trumpel-thinskin sporting a pair of handcuffs and orange jumpsuit taking a breather out in the rec-yard of the big house.

But thanks for the holiday cheer, El Jefe, something I’m sure we all can use, especially this year, what the fock. I know I sure as heck can stand some holiday cheer after having entered the Age of Septuagenerian last month. Seventy, for the good-lord fock sakes. And I’ll tell you’s, lately, it’s been brought up to me by assorted passers-by as well as fellow bus riders that I stink commensurate with each day of the 70 years. So now I’ve got to figure that it may be a good idea to bathe more than once a week, but what the fock? Extra hygiene takes time, and at focking 70, it’s time I don’t have to spare.

But how ’bout some good news? OK, this from NBC News the other day by Susan Del Percio, Republican strategist and senior adviser to the Lincoln Project, from an article titled “Trump-loving Texas Republicans one up one another with election and secession insanity”:

Recently, Republican state Rep. Kyle Biedermann announced that he will introduce legislation to allow Texas to secede from the nation. His reason? “The federal government is out of control and does not represent the values of Texans.”

YES! No more Texas. No more cowboy crap. Two less fascist members of the U.S. Senate. And Texas, if you’re going to hightail out of the Union, do me a favor and take South Carolina, Alabama and maybe Okla-focking-homa along with you. You four could easily then be replaced by our newest Union member, the great state of Washington, D.C., and why not toss in Puerto Rico to boot, god bless America.

Secessionists. Seditionists. Take them all and send them to the Island of Misfit Pols, never to be heard from again, please. Seditionists, yes, like the under-investigation corrupt Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton who filed that lawsuit with the Supreme Court to have all the votes from Georgia, Michigan, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin tossed into democracy’s dumpster. Seditionists like the 17 Republican state attorneys general and 106 House Republicans who signed onto the bullshit lawsuit.

As Amanda Marcotte wrote the other day at salon.com:

Sedition is a serious charge, but it’s the right word. Most House Republicans and 17 state attorneys general are standing against the right of Americans to choose their own leaders. As elected officials, they are using the power granted to them by the people to declare that the people should not have such power. Even if they lose this case, this time around, the fact that so many traitors hold elected office in America is a major crisis all by itself.

Yeah, happy holidays what the fock.

OK, not to get too Joycean here but it seems I’ve got my escalating undies in a bunket of tro; therefore, I best relax. So let’s wrap this up with a nice Christmas story that over the years I’ve whipped out many times, many ways; and here’s another, what the fock:

So, one Christmas Eve long, long time ago, Santa’s getting ready for his yearly trip ’round the world like always, but he’s running into all kind of problems every time he turns around. All of a sudden five elves have the flu-like symptoms and are way too sick to work and the rest of the elves can’t pick up the slack, so now’s Santa got a case of the heebie-jeebies from being way behind schedule. Then on top of that, the Mrs. tells Santa that her mother was coming to visit for a couple weeks, and now he’s really in a bad mood.

So he goes out to harness the reindeer, and he discovers that three of them are about to give birth and another two had gone AWOL over the fence to who knows where. Now he’s really stressed out. And then while he’s loading the sleigh, one of the floor boards cracks, his big bag of toys tears, falls to the ground, and now he’s got toys all over the gosh darn place.

Santa’s really beside himself, so he goes back into the house for a cup of coffee and a quick shot or three of whiskey, only to find the bottle empty and now he knows why the elves were too sick to work. Then he accidentally drops the coffee pot, which shatters into hundreds of tiny pieces all over the kitchen floor. He goes to get the broom to clean up the mess only to discover that mice had eaten all the bristles.

And just then, wouldn’t you know, the doorbell rings. Santa goes to open the door, cussing all the way. And there, holding a Christmas tree, stands the chirpiest, most cheerful angel you ever did see. The angel looks up at Santa and says, “Hi ya’, Santa. I’m Harold. What a wonderful, wonderful day. Merry, merry Christmas to you, and look at this beautiful, beautiful tree I have just for you. Hey Santa, where would you like me to put it?”

And that is how the tradition of an angel stuck on top of the Christmas tree began. Ba-ding!

Time to crank up the thermostat and mix another hot focking toddy. I recommend you do the same, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.