so bushed from this electoral experience I can hardly raise a finger,
except for the middle one on my right hand, which I will raise to the
knobs I did not vote for if I learn tomorrow that they be the ones who
got the most votes. But naturally, I must fathom the possibility that
the meagerly financed Art Kumbalek Democracy Express 2008 For Any and
All Political Office was effective enough to secure the necessary tally
of write-in votes that would put me into one of the offices that popped
up on the ballot I just got back from voting on, say, “Art Kumbalek,
Milwaukee’s new independent county focking executive.”
Could happen. It’s a case of faith versus political science here. And like on that TV show “Lost,” right now in my “real” time, today, as I work toward concocting an excuse for not being able to write an essay for you’s this week, by the time you read my excuse it will be your “real” time, but it will be my future time, see? Your real time right now may be Thursday, April 3, but my real time is two days ago. Yeah yeah, big focking deal, except you see I have flash-forwarded ahead in time where I find myself at Miller Park for the Brewers home-opening game. And the reason I’m at Miller Park on the afternoon of April 4 is so I can ceremonially throw out the first pitch on account of having been elected your new Milwaukee County executive.
I know, this all sounds kind of complicated—I’m in the past as you are in the future, my future is your present which is my past, who’s on first, Tinker to Evers to Chance— blah-blah. All I know right now is I can’t whip out an essay today because I don’t know about tomorrow except that I’m supposed to be at Miller Park this coming Friday for the ballgame, and I need to take some time to figure the ramifications of the donnybrook of this conundrum. However, I am reminded of a little story:
Back sometime in the ’90s, President Bill Clinton attended a baseball game at Camden Yards in Baltimore with First Lady Hillary Clinton. Before the game began, a Secret Service man came up to him and whispered in his ear.
The president suddenly picked up Hillary and heaved her out onto the field. The Secret Service man came running up to Bill and said, “Mr. President, sir, perhaps I had misspoken. I meant to say that it’s time to throw out the first pitch. That would be PITCH, Mr. President.”
Now I don’t exactly know if that story is true because the senator from New York has yet to include that anecdote on the resume of her executive experience. But I do know that the Hill is a baseball fan because she’s said so in the past, so all I got to say to the former first lady here during the first week of the 2008 Major League Baseball season is this: “Hey lady, let’s play ball, ain’a?” what the fock, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.