Next Stop: Moronistan

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, that douche-bag South Carofocking-lina Republican’s response to the president’s address to Congress the other day reminded me of the time Snow White got thrown out of Disney World ’cause she got caught, dress hiked to her armpits, whilst sitting upon Pinocchio’s face, screaming, “Lie to me! Lie to me, you little Italian wooden bastard!” Remember.

Oy vey, I got to tell you’s that I’m under doctor’s orders not to write an essay this week, that being on account of a high blood-pressure situation I got afflicted with after I encountered news reports about last Saturdays’ so-called “Million Moron Totally White Supremacist Focked-Up Christian Anti-American March on Washington D(umb).C(racker). to Protest Our Illegal President Because We Really, Really Don’t Like a Smart, Intelligent Guy Who’s Democrat and Black in the White House.”

And to be truthful, it’s not “doctor’s orders” I must obey, because without health insurance, who knows from a doctor? Hey, you tell me.

And then I’ll tell you, that after witnessing this media ballyhooed rise of the idiocracy, I thought I was having a stroke and so I stumbled off to the pharmacy up the block that’s got one of those free blood-pressure monitor machines for the health-care do-it-yourselfer. I blew a 217 over 112. Not so good, ain’a? I thought maybe I should go see the doc about this, but then I remembered that back in 1993, with no insurance, I sought medical care for a complaint I had and I ended up with emergency surgery, which afterward referred me to bankruptcy court. Because I had a condition, and no pot to pee in.

But god bless the private health-care industry. Without it, how else would fat-ass white women in Waukesha County have employment as paper-shufflers and designated coverage-deniers so as to provide their household with a second income that they can afford the tuition needed to send their kids to good private Christian schools? What a world.

So, since I am forced to be my own doctor, rather than bellyache about today’s political climate, I believe it would be more healthful for me to take up space here with a nice, relaxing little story that’s a tad less matter of life and death than the fact that the bullshit private health maintenance organizations we have mean nothing about providing health care but instead mean everything about taking your money while telling you to go to hell as soon as humanly possible:

So this family of pro football fans from Chicago heads out one Saturday to do their Christmas shopping. While in the sports store, the young son picks up a Green Bay Packers jersey and says to his older sister, “Hey Sis, I’ve decided to become a Packer fan and I’d really like this for Christmas.” She can’t believe it, smacks him on the head and says, “You better go talk with mom.”

And off he goes with the Green Bay Packer jersey in hand and says to his mother, “Hey Mom, I’ve decided I’m going to be a Packer fan, and I’d really like this jersey for Christmas.” The mother is outraged, smacks him on the head and says, “Go see your father.”

So the young lad finds his father and says, “Dad, guess what? I’m going to be a Packer fan, and I’d really like this Aaron Rodgers jersey for Christmas.” The father is so beside himself that he whacks his son on the head and says, “No son of mine is ever going to be seen in THAT piece of crap!”

About a half-hour later they’re all back in the car heading toward home. The dad turns to the boy and says, “Son, I hope you’ve learned something today.” The son says, “Yes pop, I have. I’ve only been a Packer fan for about an hour, and already I’ve learned to hate you Illinois sons-of-bitches.” Ba-ding!

OK, wait. About that march, I can’t let it go, personal health issues be damned. For christ sakes, I saw some knobshine carrying a sign that said, “Is this Russia?” No, asshole. This is not Russia. If this were the Russia you remember from the Joe McCarthy coloring book you had as a kid, the police would’ve postmarked your focked-up sign right before shoving it up your tight sphincter and then mailing you to the nearest labor camp where you’d spend the next 50-focking years eating gruel while beaten with nightsticks the size of Ann Coulter’s black dildo.

No, this is not Russia. It’s not even Nazi Germany, yet. This is America. Love it or leave it. And if you’s who currently carry such signs that read, “Don’t blame me. I voted for The ‘American’” or “Obama Bin Lyin” do choose to leave, would you please consider taking the Glenn Becks, Rush Limbaughs, Sean Hannitys and Sarah Palins with you? Those who love America and the legitimacy of the electoral process would be appreciative, you betcha, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.