I hear there’s elections for big andsmall offices come this autumn. And yes, I still got the fire in the belly. Butwhat I don’t have, never have had, is the funding, that huge wad of doughneeded to turn my fire into a blood-hot ballet-box haze.
This paucity of big-time jack is whatbrought me and my buddy Little Jimmy Iodine to the southeast corner of Wellsand the so-called Old World Third Street the other warm night. We were flush with acouple, three savings coupons for soup and a sandwich at the George Webb’s. Atthat corner, today in history, is a parking lot where once stood the mightyPrincess Theater, yesterday in the olden days, Before Development. Jimmy and Ireminisced our youth, yet as seasoned pedestrians, we waited for the light tochange.
“Jeez Louise, remember, Artie? It seemsto be a dream now, but didn’t we see our first naked boob in the Princess wayback when, ain’a? I don’t believe the young people today could begin tounderstand what a triumph that wasto see a naked boob ina motion picture theater. Yeah, the movies they showed there were always likefrom France and fock if you could figure out what the fock was going on, butsure as shootin’, you could always figure by evening-close before the theaterplayed the ‘Star-Spangled Banner’ right before the houselights came up, youwould had seen your naked boob.
“Nowadays, even in the movies that havethe big-time stars, you got bare knockers coming out your ears. But Artie, forme to go see a movie today, I can’t ride the goddamn bus a couple hours all theway out to Brook-focking-field from here just for the sight of the unencumberedbreast. I’m too tired. Too tired, Artie.”
This was not good. I had to cheer Jimmyup or our bite at George Webb’s would be a royal pain in the ass. I told himthat maybe I ought to run for the alderman from Downtown next time around.
“Yeah, Artie! Alderman. Tell me thestory of how it’s going to be. When you’re alderman.”
I told Little Jimmy I’d make him my topaide, that he could have his own chair to park his butt on in my office over byCity Hall.
“You got to be jerking my beefaroni. Myown chair, Artie? I wouldn’t wreck it. I promise. And maybe I could answer thephone sometimes, if you were peddling a speech somewheres. Like if somebodycalled about how come their street wasn’t plowed. I’d ask them if they votedfor you. And Artie, if they didn’t, I’d give them directions to NationalHardware and tell them to go buy a goddamn shovel and plow the streetthemselves, the lazy focks.
“And tell me more, Artie. Could westill live Downtown like always? We wouldn’t get pushed out by trust-fund knobswith fancy haircuts on cell phones in their bullshit sport trucks who all of asudden dream to live Downtown with no place to park, but can afford to paywhatever the piper plays; would we, Artie?”
Not a chance, Jimmy. I’d make Downtownjust the way we want it to be. I’d bring back the Princess Theater so a guycould see a goddamn motion picture in his neighborhood, not to mention TheStrand, Egyptian and the Palace, to boot. And I’d make sure you could find acouple, three taverns where a nice cocktail wouldn’t cost a mortgage paymentand there’d be no loud music boom-boom ’cause none of the candy-ass people whogo to lunch for a living would dream to go there.
And I told Little Jimmy that the darkmall of the Grand Avenuewould be brightened with bowling alleys, and for people who lived in theneighborhood, there would be a store with a practical housewares department,where one could purchase a nice oven mitt or affordable shower curtain.
Jimmy was now all ears; so I told himnot to forget that as a custodian of the commonweal, I’d also need to make aplay for the occasional tourist who came to town. I would trade all our pigeonsand squirrels to some Third/Fourth/Fifth World country in exchange for theirchimpanzees and assorted monkeysa good deal all around.
The poor foreign country would acquirea usable food source and Downtown Beertown would gain one heck of a touristattraction, even better that we dressed the monkeys and chimps in littlefestive ethnic outfits. We could also maybe train them to do county groundsmaintenance and low-level clerical work. Lower property taxes, anybody?
“Could I take care of the chimps,Artie, could I?” Little Jimmy asked me. “I’d be really good to them. I promise.I’d give them cigars. And teach them to roller skate.”
Sure you could, I assured Jimmy. Then Ihad to give him a good whack upside the back of the head ’cause he wasn’tlooking when the stoplight turned green. I heard someone say, “What the hell iseatin’ those two guys?”
Dreams, that’s what’s “eatin” usespeciallythe ones that aren’t ours, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told youso.
