White With Foam

I'm Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain'a? So, sorry to say I'm a little too busy to whip out a hellzapoppin' fully blown essay for you's this week. Right here, right now, I'm wrapped up in a pet project of mine, which is to try to get those-in-charge to replace the singing of “God Bless America” at our sporting events with a catchy tune by the Zimmerman kid out of Hibbing, Minn., that song “With God On Our Side.”

So I'm on my way over by the Uptowner tavern/charm school majestically crammed onto the corner of wistfully hysteric Humboldt Boulevard and the fabled Center Street—where today is always at least a day before tomorrow, and yesterday may gosh darn well be today—to see if the fellas could get on board with my idea. I mean for christ sakes, if we have to sing a “God” song come every 7th inning, why not change it up once in a while, what the fock.

Tag along if you like, but you cover the first round. Let's get going.

Emil: All I'm saying is you take your Highway 27 out of Black River Falls on your way up to Hayward, and what do these towns like your Augusta, your Cadott, your Cornell, have in common?

Julius: Lots of white guys like us parking their butts on a bar stool?

Ernie: Tons of parking, that's what. Everywhere you look there's a parking space.

Ray: No shit, Sherlock. Not a hell of a lot to park for up there.

Emil: That's beside the point. I tell you's, they're sitting on a focking gold mine and they don't even know it. If some kind of business Einstein could find a way to export all that parking to your Milwaukee, Chicago, your Hong focking Kong, the guy would be a billionaire, I kid you not.

Little Jimmy Iodine: Anybody hear about that family pledge Michele Crock-mann signed that says something like the black African Americans had it better under slavery than now 'cause there were more two-parent houses?

Ray: Yeah, but could they afford central air or a nice patio deck? I think not. Those slave owners were pretty goddamn shrewd at forking out rock-bottom wages. And it didn't help the slaves any that they couldn't have a union.

Herbie: Tell that to Bachmann and her fellow nutbag Republicans and they'd probably say the slaves felt they were lucky to just even have a job. You want to own a plantation someday, you got to work for it, nobody's going to hand it to you, what the fock.

Julius: Unless it's your daddy who owns it and gives it to you when he croaks, and now you can be the rich guy who makes about a thousand times more than anybody who works for you, and all you have to do is sit on your ass and bitch about how the government is killing you on taxes that are the lowest in the whole wide focking world.

Little Jimmy Iodine: Hey, Artie! Over here. Put a load on your keister.

Art: Hey gents. What do you hear, what do you know.

Emil: Herbie says that nutbag Republicans want to make everybody who's unemployed into a slave, so they can at least say they have a job.

Artie: I knew it was only a matter of time until somebody came up with a job plan. God bless America. Any news on the NFL lockout?

Ernie: Fock 'em all. Bunch of billionaires pissing and moaning about how to divvy up billions of dollars.

Julius: What the fock, are you talking about the football owners or those knobshines in Congress?

Herbie: Jesus H. Christ, if they start canceling games and then Vegas has to shut down for lack of funds 'cause guys can't bet their kid's college fund on a Packers-Bears spread, it's going to be a sad, sad day for this country.

Little Jimmy Iodine: Is there any way the president could lock out the Republicans from Congress? A lot more would get done, what the fock. Send those Republicans home and bring in some smart experts who know their ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to economic stuff. Cripes, the regular people can't find a focking job and all these CEO-ass-licking conservatives can do is sign pledges to ban pornography and talk about how the gay people will go to hell?

Ray: The day we outlaw pornography is the day this country gives up its god-given right to be leader of the free world.

(Hey, it's getting late and I know you got to go, but thanks for letting us bend your ear, 'cause I'm Art Kumbalek and I told you so.)