Schlock and Loaded

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Painting image by sedmak - Getty Images

Art Kumbalek angel

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, now with the summertime soon to show up in Our Town, in a scant month-and-a focking half we’ve got the Republican Convention of dunce douchebag men and women locked, loaded and aimed to spray their bullshit of willful ignorance wherever they imagine spraying needs to be sprayed so’s to cleanse an historic American palate for the taste of constitutional democracy to be replaced with a mouthful of neo-Christian bitter fascism. Swell.

Yeah yeah, the Republican National Convention ’24 coming up like a bad burrito come mid-July. Lot of organizing for this she-bang I hear going on. The latest is that this Republican National Committee wants the Secret Service to move the so-called designated protest area (what the fock) farther way from the Downtown convention’s security perimeter where within the crapola will be shoveled.

And so I hear that the GOP’s preferred location for the “designated protest area” in Beer Town would best be moved to a galaxy far, far away. Second choice from the fockers is Greenland with the Amazon rainforest a close third. 

So here we are landed, post-Memorial Day, that day, a day, to honor and clutch-heart for our uniformed men and women, guys and gals, past and future. Speeches were made all ’round the country, in respect and honor of the day for remembrance.

As these words, from a former president of the whole kit and kaboodle by the name of Barack Obama, remember him? I quote from here:

msnbc.com/rachel-maddow-show/maddowblog/trump-recognizes-memorial-day-raging-foes-human-scum-rcna154248

“One of my greatest honors of my life was the privilege of serving as commander-of-chief and with pride, also came sometimes heartbreak and loss… And the sober recognition of the sacrifices that so many Americans and their families have made to preserve our freedom.”

And the words of President Dwight “Ike” Eisenhower from May 21, 1953:

“Whereas the bodies of our war dead lie buried in hallowed plots throughout the land, and it has long been our custom to decorate their graves on Memorial Day in token of our respect for them as beloved friends and kinsmen and of our aspiration that war may be removed from the earth forever…

And then there is the spew from a more recent former “president,” Humpty Dumbty Trumpel-thinskin, who had this to express from the get-go, and I quote:

“Happy Memorial Day to All, including the Human Scum that is working so hard to destroy our Once Great Country, & to the Radical Left, Trump Hating Federal Judge in New York that presided over, get this, TWO separate trials, that awarded a woman, who I never met before (a quick handshake at a celebrity event, 25 years ago, doesn’t count!), 91 MILLION DOLLARS for ‘DEFAMATION.’” 

God bless America, ain’a?

So’s to remind you all, there’s a whole bunch of political elections on the horizon, all of which to culminate on Tuesday, Nov. 5. And just so you’s know, I’m a candidate for each and every one of them, you betcha.

Do I have a dream? Yes sir, ladies and gents and whomever, I’ve got a dream but good.

My dream is that when it comes to your political needs, I would be your one-stop shopping—call me the Art-Mart for the Great Unwashed Public. I could be your county sheriff, mayor, alderman, judge, senator, ambassador, coroner, crossing guard, dogcatcher, president; and all under one hat. How convenient would that be for you’s? You tell me.

And then I’ll tell you that no matter what kind of bug-up-your-butt you got, be it local, state, asshole neighbor, nation-wide, wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend/world-wide schmutz, you just come to Art-Mart and I would sure-as-shootin’ take care of it. With me in all the hallowed halls of offices, you would no longer have to dick around with the County Courthouse, City Hall, town-hall meeting, Madison, D.C., the Hague and who-knows-where. Fock no. Just come to me. Come to Art-Mart where you’ll find value for all your political needs, I kid you not. All you got to do is get off your ass and VOTE, no matter how difficult and strenuous these ferkakta Republicans intend it to be accomplished (“if you can accurately guess the number of jellybeans in this two-gallon jar, you may register so’s to cast a ballot that we will try not to count”).

What issues would I address as your Grand Poobah?

Here’s one for starters: I’m all for less population, especially when I got to ride the focking bus at such times I got to be seated next to some knucklehead whose contribution to my societal milieu is a healthy hocking dose of focking drool down the corner of his mouth midstream his stream of nearly focking consciousness conversation with himself about the focking baloney sandwich he’s going to eat later, what the fock.

As your next president or whatever, I shall unveil more of my ideas and ideals so’s to make a better world for all, forward as these days dwindle down to a precious few, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.