Trumpster Diving

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Art Kumbalek

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, I hear another big-time uber alles celebrity New York Met Gala has come and gone. I don’t know about you’s, but my invite apparently was lost in the mail, what the fock.

So natch’, I was not there hobnobbing with the illuminati, but neither was lord and savior “President” Trumpel-thinskin, which I’m sure the ladies in attendance were relieved that the man famous for once saying “They let you do it. You can do anything. Grab ’em by the pussy” was too busy destroying civilizations to show up.

After all, let’s not forget the defamation and rape trial he had in New York City only a couple, three years ago, and there was this from somewhere on the internet back then:

Appearing on MSNBC’s “The Saturday Show” with host Jonathan Capehart, Barbara McQuade was as stunned as the host that the former president doubled down on his belief that celebrities are allowed to take advantage of women, one time stating, “Well, historically, that’s true with stars,” and then later adding, “... if you look over the last million years I guess that’s been largely true. Not always, but largely true. Unfortunately or fortunately.”

That’s our boy, Trumpty Dumbty, ain’a?

“The last million years”? “Celebrities”? “Stars”? Cripes, a million years ago? According to my scant research, the Homo sapien did not shine around until about 300,000 years ago, give or take. But our “stable genius” is talking about celebrities grabbing pussy many thousands of years even before that.

And who exactly would be a celebrity from those ancient olden times? The guy or gal who figured how to control fire so’s Uk-Luk and Muk-Luk could warm up a Mastodon chop they’d been keeping in the ice house? Of course, he would. He’d be welcomed to grab crotch from every hut/yurt/piss-ass tent from Irkustk all the way down to whatever gathering they called a gathering then down there by Rio de focking Janeiro according to the Orange Circus Peanut’s filmed deposition.

Yes sir, life, such as it was, on this ultimately doomed planet one-million years ago consisted mostly of this: “Crocodiles, lizards, turtles, pythons, and other reptiles proliferated during this time, as did birds such as ducks, geese, hawks, and eagles.” In other words, life-forms that would evolve into spoken language-savvy characters used in Disney-Pixar animated motion pictures. Show business, the keeper of evolutionary history, you betcha.

OK, let’s move ahead with the Trumpster’s claim of historical crotch grabbing (AKA as sexual assault according to the “woke” crowd). As we travel forward in time from the crocodiles etc. to the Egyptians from a couple, three, four, six-thousand years ago, I am not aware that any of those crowned king/emperor snake-hat rulers are displayed upon historical artifacts grabbing crotch. If that were a big-time thing way back then, surely upon their ancient vessels it would’ve been portraited, you think?

So, I continued my research into top-notch historical guys and the availability of historical record of their crotch-grabbing ways, lo, these past million years.

I checked in on Tutankhamun (see above), the museum-favorite head honcho Egypt guy (1332–1323 BC), apparently croaked around the age of 18. Yeah, I don’t see much crotch-grabbing depicted from the records of his tomb opening, although his mummified self has certainly achieved celebrity/star status.

Or how ’bout your Buddha, born as Siddhartha Gautama (563 BCE or 480 BCE) “The Awakened.” Haven’t heard about much crotch-grabbing from the Budd, I kid you not.

But what do I know? Hey, how ’bout your Jesus? I’m no Bible-thumping expert, but for those of you’s who are, do you recall any mention of the “lord” wandering around his neck of the world so’s to provide a bunch of palaver alongside some kind of fish and bread like-thing whilst simultaneously grabbing crotch? I don’t. And he’s possibly the biggest celebrity/star of all time, besides maybe Frank Sinatra, Elvis and Muhammad Ali not to mention Julius focking Caesar, you betcha.

Oh my, look at the time. I got to go and get ready for the Mother’s Day coming up, the day we celebrate the lady from whom we all traveled within so as to enter out into this world as we know it.

Now, in regard to the current inflationary economy, I’m guessing many of you’s don’t have the extra couple, three bucks so as to present mom with a bunch of flowers, box of candy, new doilies, brunch, Sunday afternoon trip to the zoo, evening at the nightclub featuring the Chippendales, what the flock. So how ’bout you present her with the gift of laughter on her special day?

Go for it. Here’s a couple, three little stories you can use no matter what the circumstance of your get-together be:

So this little kid saunters into his parents’ bedroom one night and sees his mom on top of his pop bouncing up and down. The mom notices her son, quickly rolls over and covers herself, worried about what her son has seen. She dresses quickly and seeks to find him. The kid asks, “What were you and dad doing?”

Mother replies, “You know your dad has a big tummy and, well, sometimes I have to get on top of it to help flatten it.” The kid says, “You’re wasting your time, mom. Whenever you go out shopping, the lady next door comes over, gets on her knees and blows it right back up.” Ba-ding!

And who doesn’t enjoy a “Mommy Mommy” zinger?

“Mommy, mommy, I hate Daddy’s guts.”

“Shut up, kid, and keep eating!” Ba-ding!

And don’t forget you can always spring for a nice riddle, such as: Why don’t Jewish mothers drink? Oy vey, ’cause alcohol interferes with their suffering. Ba-ding!

And in conclusion, if you’re looking for a nice champagne toast at the Mother’s Day brunch, how ’bout you serve up some Oscar Wilde: All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does, and that is his.

Ba-ding! ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.