Art Kumbalek
I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, for you sports fans I know that National Football League draft day, Thursday April 29, is right up there with Christmas and the focking Fourth of July. I’ll be paying one-eyed attention as well, with the faint hope that I might hear this: “With the 256th pick, Green Bay selects Art Kumbalek, long-crapper, from a dinky apartment in Downtown Milwaukee.” Yes sir, bang the drum, indeed.
Of course, the odds of such a thing happening are only slightly better than winning the latest Powerball lottery, but given the “quality” of recent Packers drafts, anything’s possible, what the fock. Plus, I wouldn’t mind spending a couple, three days up there in Titletown, USA, for training camp, grab some free meals as well as a monetary stipend of some sorts, before, natch’, I get cut and sent home on account of rumored eyebrow-raising character issues.
Anyways, as I keep my ears wide open these days for the sound of nearby gunfire, I can tell you’s that I just received my latest monthly AARP Bulletin with an interesting article about these prolific fraudsters, scammer-spammers and hackers ready to lift your wallet from right out of your hip pocket. All I got to say is thank the lord these criminals have yet to figure a way to hack into one of my essays in an attempt to take you’s, the gentle reader, on a ride toward an empty bank account, aina?
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And… hold on. Someone’s at the door. It’s probably the delivery guy with the pizza I ordered from Lisa’s—be back in a jiff.
Dear Friends of the Kumbalek Art,
Hello to you. I am with the sorry news for you with what has happened to me. I am on vacation in the Hayward, Wisconsin, USA, with my extended family to enjoy. But the terrible things happen.
I somehow lost my hold of keys to the automobile while visiting at nighttime the outhouse privy in back of the rustic cabin we have rented; and the keys, they unretrievably disappeared down the chute and sank into the fetid fecal waste collected there. Gravity is the bitch sometimes, even to the godfearing.
And now we have no transportation to home.
Upon hearing my screams of anguish, my extended family rushed to my aid. They were not the only ones who heard my screams. We were shortly set upon by what I can only guess to be a lawless gang of renegade godless lumberjacks. Each and every one of us were mugged of our wallets and purses. And I, singularly, took a pounding, pounded like a 2-by-4 by the carpenter hammer, pounded like a dusty carpet by the housewife, pounded like the meat of the lamb by the cook for the shawarma sandwich.
And now we have no transportation to home, and plus we have not the money we had.
I could also mention the black bears we encountered who reduced the numbers of our group as we attempted to hike the 23 miles to the nearest town for assistance before turning back. But I have not the strength to mention the black bears we encountered who reduced the numbers of our group as we attempted to hike the 23 miles to the nearest town for assistance.
Through this difficult ordeal, the members of our group who survive have not lost its sense of humor. At night, in the darkness of our rustic cabin with no electricity, no transportation home, no money, we share stories for the laugh of the spirit. A favorite:
Two scientists are talking in the laboratory one day and one says to the other, “Wait until you see my latest discovery. It is not to be believed!” Intrigued, the second scientist asks for a demonstration of this amazing discovery.
At his request, the first scientist removes a spider from a matchbox, places it on the desk and says, “Spider FORWARDS!” At his command, the spider moves forwards. The scientist then says, “Spider, TURN AROUND,” to which the spider obeys. The scientist then says “Spider, FORWARDS,” and again the spider does exactly as it is told. The second scientist is impressed with his friend’s command of the spider and congratulates him on his work.
The first scientist then replies, “No, you haven’t seen my discovery yet. Wait until you see ‘THIS,’ and he then proceeds to pull out each of the spider’s legs, and then places the legless spider back on a desk.
The first scientist then repeats his order to the spider, “Spider, FORWARDS,” but the spider does not move. “Spider, TURN AROUND.” But it still does not move.
Now the second scientist is confused, and so asks his friend what it is he is trying to do, pointing out that the spider is not going to move. “Exactly!” the first scientist says, “I’ve just discovered that when you pull a spider’s legs out, they go deaf!” Ba-ding, ha-ha!
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And so I ask if you can help us for your assistance during this religious time of year. Again, we are stranded in Hayward, Wisconsin, USA. All our money, credit cards and passports have been stolen, and we have no transportation or food. Please send your cash monies (including such the bank account number so we can send “thank you” note) to the Art Kumbalek c/o Shepherd Express magazine paper of internet, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA.
I have trust and sure that this gentleman will ensure we receive your funds for us, ’cause what the fock, I have telling you so.
OK, I’m back. I don’t want this pizza to go cold, so I’m going to get going, besides, I really don’t have anything to say this week, so what the fock, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
