Mob Fool

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Art Kumbalek

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So cripes, five people dead after this mob rush on our Capitol building. Not a good look for America’s fling with democracy, you think?

So I’m listening to this latest House impeachment hearing here during the afternoon, Jan. 13, and it is to laugh when listening to some of the more rabid House Republicans call for some kind of “unity,” wring their hands and look around for the nearest fainting couch as they despair that this impeachment will further divide the country and that could be really dangerous (hint-hint). So I went to the store and picked up a bag of Purina for dinner ’cause even I, at my age, could hear the dog whistle.

So I got to say that outgoing President Soupy Sales has been right about one thing (perhaps the only thing) in that there’s never ever been a president like himself. Impeached twice? Let me check. Nope. Never had a president impeached twice, you betcha.

Next up, first president to be slapped behind bars after leaving office? Hell yeah, I’d put some dough on that happening. Unless, once out of office and feeling the heat, he chooses to be roomies with Edward Snowden over there in Mother Russia. I imagine our Trumpel-thinskin would be treated quite well considering all the good works he’s done for his best buddy, the esteemed Vladimir Putin.

And I just heard U.S. Rep. Jim McGovern (D-Mass.) say this on the House floor: “Every moment Donald Trump is in the White House, our nation, our freedom, is in danger.” Well, no shit Sherlock. Lot of us have been saying the same thing since the fall of 2016, what the fock.

But TV’s Orange Circus Peanut has got to go; never to return to any political office, in any form, ever. Reasons? Who’s got time to count. But there is this:

From Andrea Marcotte, salon.com, Jan. 12:

Trump's support for the insurrection and hatred of anyone who fought back continues to manifest in actions such as refusing to lower the flags for the Capitol police officer who was beaten to death by the mob and only giving in reluctantly after being badgered about it by his aides for days.

And just for kicks, this from Jonathan Chait, New York Magazine (nymag.com), Jan. 12:

Donald Trump has chosen to spend the waning days of his presidency alternating between feeble efforts to cancel the election and subjecting his vice-president to a series of torments. The New York Times has new details about the latter, which includes Trump making a final demand that Pence attempt an absurd, illegal maneuver to overturn the election results. “You can either go down in history as a patriot,” Trump said, according to two sources, “or you can go down in history as a pussy.”

Wait a focking second. Vice President as “pussy”? Isn’t that the historical nature of the gig? “Vice-Pussydent”? And Mike “Fly Man” Pence certainly was up to the measure during his four years as mannequin-in-chief.

Cripes, of every photo-op of Trump signing some bullshit thing at the Oval Office desk with the VP standing nearby, I’m now surprised there weren’t a couple, three snapshots with the vice president engaged with a ball of string or looking officiously at the camera with a mouse tail descending from his lips. Yeah, pussy? Had it covered. He had his nose so far up Trump’s ass that Donald could brush his and Mike’s teeth at the same time; or something like that.

And who exactly are these white guys playing Army man in adulthood, but only now they’ve got the real-deal firearms rather than the cheap plastic Mattel variety, junk they got for Christmas in the ’60s, with the money to afford their batch of guns, ammo and costumes? Not to mention the dough to build a scaffold and noose so’s to hang white-guy Vice President Mike Pence on the Capitol steps? Is this now the blossoming of our fabulously failing American public school system, the seeds planted at the onset of the Reagan years? You tell me.

And then I’ll tell you that I wonder who exactly the fock are these so-called Christian evangelicals who counted themselves among the nearly 75 million who voted for Trumpenstein ’cause they believe he, of all possible apostates, was sent by their “God” to do their business and save the world for them, and them alone? Good focking lord. But I’m reminded of a little story:

So a bunch of preachers are having a little ecumenical confab in the rectory of a Catholic priest. Just as they’re silently girding up to air out some of their differences, the good father offers each of them a whiskey to ease tensions, to clear the air of religious napalm, so to speak.

“Don’t mind if I do, thanks,” says the Methodist vicar, who belts down a good three fingers of Wild Turkey. “And you?” asks the priest of the fire-and-brimstone fundamentalist Baptist Bible-thumper. “What?!?!!” shouts the born-againer, shocked to his core. “Drink alcohol?! I’d rather debauch in a whorehouse after voting for a Democrat!”

At this, the Methodist spits his whiskey back into the glass and hollers, “Whoa, Nellie! You mean we get a choice?” Ba-ding!

And so I conclude to pray and hope (’cause these days you’ve got to have hope I’ve heard, I kid you not) that somewhere is an alternate/parallel-universe America that elected a TV guy for their president and his name is Fred Rogers. That would be a neighborhood I could live in, meow-meow, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.