Jim, Beam Me Up

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So what the fock, the other day I suddenly realized we got an election for governor of America’s Dairyland right around the corner in a yearand-a-half come the November of 2010, which means I got a heap of pipe to lay from now ’til then if I aim to bag that job.

I hear I already got some stiff competition for the gig, besides the incumbent. There’s Scott Walker, our Milwaukee County executive whose notion of effective servitude to the people is to put on a suit in the morning and then call it a day, but not before counting the new dollars in his campaign war chest fund.

So no essay from me this week ’cause I got to go meet with mine own campaign brain trust over by the Uptowner tavern/charm school situated at the corner of Hysteric Center Street & Humboldtwhere today is always at least a day before tomorrow, and yesterday may gosh darn well be todayand kick-start the 2010 Art Kumbalek Democracy Express for Whatever Office You Got, I kid you not.

Come along if you’d like, but you buy the first round. Let’s get going.

Emil: Fock you. You talk like a sausage, Ernie. Of course they would’ve had to whatyou-call “torture” at some point. Listen, you’re on a five-year mission for the United Federation of Planets to explore strange, new worlds and every time you turn around, all you’re getting is some-kind-of shit from space aliens whose only purpose in the universe is to fock you up; and not in a good way.

Julius: Sounds logical. I can imagine that while the captain Quirk and that pointyeared Nimrod what’s-his-name are shoveling their dime-store philosophy in front of the cameras up on the bridge of the ship, deep in the bowels are a couple-three beefy redshirt uncredited crew members kicking the everloving crap out of some three-eyed squishyheaded piece-of-work from the planet Upyerz II, ’cause they’re trying to get this puss-bag to fess up to messing with one of those bullshit crystals focking Scotty was always whining about, ain’a?

Herbie: Bet you a buck two-eighty Dick Cheney is a big Star Trek fan: To boldly go where no vice president has gone before.

Ray: “Damn it George, I’m a torturer and serial liar, not president of the Senate.”

Little Jimmy Iodine: Hey, Artie! Over here. Put a load on your keister.

Art: Hey gents. What do you hear, what do you know.

Ernie: I hear there was torture on the Star Trek Enterprise.

Art: If the Geneva Convention covered acting, I suppose a William Shatner line-reading could be… construed as… ag-… ainst… the rule… s.

Little Jimmy: He always did seem a little wooden, ain’a?

Ray: He was the only actor on that show who didn’t go to make-up before a scene. They used varnish instead.

Ernie: I rented some old Star Trek movies last weekend ’cause it’s been awhile and I wanted to be up to speed when I go to see the new one that just came out. Remember Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan?

Herbie : Fockin’ - A . That’s the one where Ricardo Montalban looks like Greta Van Susteren with big knockers, ain’a? 

Julius: No. I thought he looked more like the other Republican bitch-harpy, Ann Coulter, but with bigger knockers.

Ray: Yeah, “Mr. Roarke” with long hair and a set of jugs, por favor, not my kind of fantasy. I wondered what was next for the guy, a line of male lingerie and a brochure, “Ricardo’s Secrets”?

Art: Yeah yeah. I never saw that movie. It’s like Groucho said, he never went to a picture where the leading man’s tits were bigger than the leading lady’s.

Ernie: Doesn’t it always seem like the future’s here before you know it and when it shows up, it’s like “big focking deal”?

Julius: You got a point, Emil. There was that movie, “2001: Space something-or-another” that was actually made in 1968. So what the fock, it’s 2009 now and we still haven’t been to another planet.

Emil: You’re full of a crap. I seem to recall that as a species we’ve been to the moon, have we not, Mr. Einstein?

Ernie: Fock the moon. All those millions and millions of dollars spent so a couple, three flyboys could knock a golf ball around a place that looks just like the middle of Nevada but without all the gambling and legalized prostitution. Like I said: Big focking deal.

Little Jimmy: The future has always been hard to figure for mankind. Again, like Groucho said: “Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.”

Herbie: And don’t forget, about man’s yearning for knowledge of his place in the universe, he said: “Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.” (Hey, it’s getting late and I know you got to go, but thanks for letting us bend your ear, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.)