What Now?

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Photo by Grape_vein - Getty Images

Art Kumbalek as a knight

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, I gave top-dog attention to the election returns well into the late evening of Tuesday, Nov. 5, 2024. Cripes.

What the fock!?! As the night wore on, I didn’t feel so swell. I thought maybe it was because last week I got blasted by radiation treatments for some kind of cancer each day Monday-through-Friday. Such a thing can affect a fella’s physical disposition, the doctors said.

Wednesday, Nov.6, 2024, I awoke at 5 a.m., steadied myself to ambulatory status from off the nighttime bed and prepare myself later in the day so’s to blow out a candle, or three, or 74 later in the day on account of a B-day. I turned on what-they-call media to learn that Donald J(ackanape) Trumpel-thinskin had indeed been re-elected as our lord of the land, with the U.S. Senate in his kitbag to boot. 

Yes. Trumpty-Dumpty. The Orange Circus Peanut. Fascist fat ignorant fock-ass.

I’ve had several less-than-swell birthdays in the past when it comes to the November 6, but this one… THIS ONE… oh yeah, takes the cake and flushes it down the toilet.

Side effects: Fatigue; shortness of breath; nausea; decreased appetite; difficulty swallowing; blood in sputum; Electoral College (any hot-shot basketball savant ever play for E.C.?) brain schmutz; weight loss.

Anyways, now I lay me down to sleep (an Early Times tumbler or three pre-noon can have that effect, so it’s said), but not before I figure where to go and how to do finally get myself of one of these passports to maybe get the fock out of here before I get sent to some kind of gulag.

Fiji? Tahiti? Tralfamadore?

What else can I say? This:

FORWARD

Good luck, gawd speed, and fight the good fight ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.