Lock, Stock, and Peril

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Art Kumbalek

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, hope you all had a copacetic Halloween-time experience over the recent days, what the fock.

For me, thank the dark lord, I had no trick-or-treaters come begging by me—perhaps that I’m situated on an upper-upper floor within a dinky Downtown apartment with no elevator may have something to do with the 100% absence of whippersnappers come knocking. You tell me.

And then I’ll tell you’s seems that year after year of offering the costumed katzenjammers nothing but mashed potatoes and gravy turned the no-show trick for me, and I’ll bet you a buck two-eighty it could turn it for you. And if you are a so-called adult who made a big deal about the Halloween with all kinds of plans and costumed outfits—take a good look in the mirror and maybe think about seeing somebody who’s dressed up like a psychiatrist, why don’t you.

Such as a rumor I heard through my incredible sources that the newly elected mega-conservative, nutbag evan-focking-gelist and creationist aficionado Speaker of the House, Mike Johnson, U.S. representative out of the voodoo state known as Louisiana, showed up at a late-October pumpkin party in D.C. as caveman Fred Flintstone straddling the back of his wife, Kelly (blond, wouldn’t you know, and soon to be a Fox News mouth-gobbler, I’m sure), who was dolled up as Dino the pet dinosaur, ’cause not only did the caveman saddle up a dinosaur like a Palomino pony only a couple, three, maybe four, thousand years ago, they also considered the wife as a pet, one dripped in savoir faire for whipping up breakfast/lunch/dinner in the kitchen, house-cleaning and minding the kids.

And speaking of the book-banning fad that’s sweeping the nation, here’s a little timely story sure to be soon kiboshed stock, lock and barrel by Republican Puritans. Soon, your only access to this kind of a material may be upon a public school playground at recess time:

So listen, my uncle told me about this guy driving home late one night who starts feeling a little frisky, you know? He’s passing by a pumpkin patch and thinks, “Hmm, the interior of a pumpkin is not altogether unlike a certain part of the female anatomy—in a sensual sense, that is. And what the fock, there’s no one around for miles.” So he slams on the brakes, jumps the fence, picks the juiciest looking pumpkin he sees, carves an anatomically correct aperture, drops his drawers and commences to slake his burning desire. Reaching the heights of passion, he fails to notice the police car pulling over to the side of the road. 

Cop walks over, shines a flashlight on the guy and says, “Hey buddy, did you know you were porking a pumpkin?” The guy looks at the cop, then down at the pumpkin between his hands and says, “Good lord, officer! Is it midnight already!?!” Ba-ding!

OK. Ready for some good news? Yeah, you better keep your pantaloons fastened ’cause I don’t have any.

But there is this: a column by the venerable West Point graduate and journalist Lucian K. Truscott IV (salon.com) titled “The World is coming apart at the seams: The initial rip in the fabric of civilization starts right now” Taking a look-see at wars and coups around the globe, he concludes:

So, add the death toll from America’s compulsion to buy and use firearms into the mix. Even countries at war or suffering coups and revolutions can’t keep up with the number of people killed in this country with guns. If the world is coming apart at the seams, the initial rip in the fabric of civilization starts right here.

Focking swell.

You can check out the entirety of his brilliance here: 

salon.com/2023/10/27/the-world-is-coming-apart-at-the-seams

And so, like a modern day Geppetto in search of good and true news (rather than a focking wooden boy) that you’s can cram into a pipe to smoke, I discovered on the internet such a thing called, “The 30 Things everyone should do in Milwaukee at least once, according to Tripadvisor reviewers” courtesy of such a website named stacker.com.

(To follow along, here’s where to go:  www.msn.com/en-us/travel/tripideas/the-30-things-everyone-should-do-in-milwaukee-at-least-once-according-to-tripadvisor-reviewers/ss-AA1j2Bpr)

Cripes, good lord and good luck with checking that link-up, but what the fock.

Yeah yeah, on the list you got the usual suspects: Art Museum, Milwaukee Public Market, Riverwalk etcetera etcetera etcetera blah-blah-blah. But wouldn’t you know, I’ve got some disagreements with this listage of “The 30 Things everyone should do in Milwaukee at least once, according to Tripadvisor reviewers.”

For starters, numero uno absent on this list would be that you present a nice appearance to go along with a smile as your umbrella at least once as a thing to do in BrewTown, ain’a? 

Secondly, #11 on the list says you got to march your ass up to the St. Joan of Arc Chapel there on West Wisconsin Avenue by the Marquette U. dentist, conservative lawyer and basketball factory. Hey, I spent my schoolboy days confined at Our Lady In Pain That You Kids Are Going Straight To Hell But Not Soon Enough. For a guy like me, to visit any kind of chapel or church ever again? Mon focking Dieu!

And speaking of a guy like me, obviously missing from this list are any-and-all George Webb Restaurants (“open 23 hours, 59 minutes, 7 days a week, including Sunday”); Art’s Performing Center (or whatever they call it these days), the exotic gentlemen’s club Downtown stacked there on the Juneau Ave.; and, of course, the Uptowner tavern/charm school majestically crammed onto the corner of wistfully Hysteric Humboldt Boulevard and the fabled Center Street—where today is always at least a day before tomorrow, and yesterday may gosh darn well be today.

And so, in conclusion, There’s this, from the independent.co.uk:

Donald Trump labelled himself a “genius” as he revealed to his supporters that he had recently realised the word “us” is spelled the same as “US”.

The former president questioned whether anybody else had ever thought to make the connection before, when he addressed supporters in New Hampshire on Monday (23 October).

Speaking about his dealings with French president Emmanuel Macron, he said: “Macron, nice guy, he’s for France–I’m for us.

“You know, you spell us right? You spell us U-S. I just picked that up. Has anyone ever thought of that?”

Okey-doke. Got it. Now, if only our stable genius could discover the difference between his fat ass and a hole in the ground, I may be able to sleep through the night for a change, what the fock, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.