I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, it’s been an alarming couple three days for me, what the fock.

To wit: Last Sunday, I took an early afternoon ride on the No. 30 downtown to the Grandly Store-Closed mall where I planned to kick the tires on a factory-new pair of midnight-black all-cotton Gold Toe men’s socks over by the Boston Store.

Not two moments after I boarded Milwaukee County Transit System’s finest did some piece-of-guy—baseball-capped, granny-glassed, aging baby boomer, wild-ass beard/hair, you know, sporting the look so de rigueur with the House of Correction/part-time aluminum-can recycler set—turn to me from across the aisle one row up and announce, “I seen your picture in the paper. What about the militia? We got militia in Milwaukee. Nazis. They’re Nazis.”

Time passed, too briefly, and then: “The militia, here. We got Nazis in Milwaukee. Huh?” I thanked him for the tip, assuming it was a word to the wise rather than a proclamation of joy. Quiet ensued, and a few blocks later he got up and I heard him ask the driver to drop him off at the Federal building there just past Third and Wisconsin. God bless America.

Then later that day in the night was a TV show on the Discovery Channel where the eminent rocket-scientist Stephen Hawking—a brainiac bon vivant whose résumé includes every goddamn thing with the exception of a guest spot on “Dancing With the Stars”—declared that intelligent life from other cosmos could be, well, dangerous.

He said visitors to our fair planet from outer space could be “nomads, looking to conquer and colonize.” Yeah, focking swell. And I agree—not just “conquer and colonize,” but how ’bout these technologically advanced aliens might hail from a resource-depleted corner of a solar system and so they got to be looking for new nutrient food sources.

Could we, the Sapien race of human beings, become the chickens who be sliced, diced, chopped, seasoned and fried to be served on a fast-food sandwich to 12-foot aliens who sport bald large-cranium brains the size of elite university-library globes of the planet Earth?

You betcha, we can. And all I can say is it’s time to be no longer simply Native Americans, Native Mexicans, Africans, Euro-focking-peans, Islam-fock-you, native blah-lah and blah-blah. Time to be Native Earthlings ’cause those alien extraterrestrials from the planet You Are Focked Up the Ass, Earthling Losers are due any day now and the first thing they want to do is reach up and tear our livers right clean out of our assholes, besides screw our white women three-ways sideways ’til Sunday. Our history as a planet ought to Amen that notion, ain’a?

What a world, what a universe, ain’a? Reminds me of a little story:

A film crew was on location deep in the desert. One day an old Native American what-they-used-to-call Indian went up to the director and said, "Tomorrow, rain." The next day it rained. A week later, the Indian went up to the director and said, "Tomorrow, storm." The next day there was a hailstorm.

"This Indian is incredible," said the director. He told his secretary to hire the Indian to predict the weather. But then, after several successful predictions, the wise Native American was not seen for weeks. Finally, the director sent for him, and when he appeared, the director said, "I have to shoot a big scene tomorrow, and I need your native expertise. What will the weather be like?" The Indian shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know," he said. "Radio broke."

And there we go. Please remain at ease. There’s nothing us Homo sapiens can’t do, or can’t kill, these days, aliens be damned. The wonder of it all, ain’a? ’Cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.