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Thursday, Feb. 17, 2011

Something Sphinx Around Here

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I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, I got one hot tip for you’s who may be still steamed by having to cool your heels in long lines whenever you go to vote once every four years during a November battle of presidents.

I just got back from voting in last Tuesday’s primary blah-blah election, and on my ballot I only had the state Supreme Court, county executive and a circuit court judge. Yes sir, I’m here to tell you that when it comes to exercising your franchise, if crowds or standing in line ’round the block and back cause you to consider relocating to some Commie country where the sanctioned synonym for suffrage is “labor camp,” then this was the election for you, I kid you not.

Talk about democracy-friendly. No muss, no fuss. I was in, then out of that ballot booth like a regular Harry Houdini. It was so easy that, to tell the truth, next time I might even ask one of the ladies passing out ballots to handcuff and blindfold me first and see if I can still make it out in less than 15 seconds, what the fock.

Now if you’ve never voted before but have always felt like giving it a shot, a small-potatoes primary election is a good place to get your feet wet and feel good about your performance. You see, a lot of rookie voters tend to choke under the pressure when they enter the booth during those heavy national elections when the fate of the free world may hinge on their ability to follow simple instructions. It’s called the “Florida Syndrome,” and the results can lead to disaster, you betcha.

And then I’ll tell you that the seasoned voter understands that there are elections when political practicalities and the calendar dictate that you got to settle for a baloney sandwich even though you more hanker a nice hunk of Chteaubriand. It’s like tickets to a Bucks game. You may prefer to see the Lakers, but the only seat you can score is of a distance from the action that if you don’t carry in an iron lung and the Hubble telescope, hey, focking forget about it. So instead it’s the Nets out of New Jersey for you. Plenty of empty seats. And parking? No problemo.

But let me tell you’s that a ballot which lists only a school board/state superintendent election is a thing of beauty to the true election aficionado. The aficionado would say that it’s the synchronicity of form and function, that the percentage of eligible voters who actually turn out for one of these shebangs to choose citizens to help run the schools is nearly identical to the percentage of eligible students who actually show up for class any given day of the school year.

You know, if I wasn’t so damn busy running 24/7 12/52/365 for president of our fine country, I might myself cotton on one of these school-board gigs. Focking-A, sit around and bitch about schools, teachers and the jackass kids, plus get paid for it to boot? That’s exactly all I did during mine own glorious school days, and the only thanks I ever got back then was a couple, three soapy mouth-washings and trips to the principal’s office 8/5, what the fock.

Better yet would be to start my own damn school now that the powers-that-be can choose to take money away from the public schools and hand it over to any Tom, Dick or Dickless who’s got a notion to change his/her crappy basement into some kind of academy for this or that.

I’m not exactly sure what I’d try to cram down the throats of the students at Art Kumbalek’s Excellent Knowledge Nook, but I better come up with something if I’m going to grab this state dough they’re passing out hand over fist. I do know I’d like some kind of discipline on the premises, so school uniforms might be a practical start; although for the young ladies, I vouch that I may make the wearing of uniforms optional—their “choice”; my choice may include high heels and fishnets, what the fock.

Curriculum will be strong on teaching the good ol’-fashioned values: Let a smile be your umbrella; never, ever mix good booze with soda; brush your teeth and stay in school. And there’d be plenty of memorizing stuff, you bet, ’cause while the kids are doing their memorizing, I could step outside and have a nice smoke in the faculty garage.

The most important thing I’d have them memorize would be any and all parts in the Constitution that talk about the right to vote—with the exception of the clause where the slave-holding Founding Fathers state the need for an I.D. card. My choice.

As soon as any student showed me they had those phrases and particles down cold, plus swore up and down they’d vote in every election no matter how stupid or trivial, I’d stamp them straight-A ready for the real world of these United States. Class dismissed. Now go out and get a focking job, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
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