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Thursday, Oct. 6, 2011

Are You Ready for Some Goof Ball?

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I'm Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain'a? So listen, a quick reminder to you's not to forget to cast your votes in this year's big honking Shepherd Express Best of Milwaukee readers' choice poll with a deadline of Oct. 13. Yeah yeah, they got a ballot page in the regular newspaper somewhere you can fill out with a pen and mail it in, I guess. Or you can be a fancy-pants lazy ass and use that Internet thing at the www.expressmilwaukee.com to do your voting electronically, god bless Ben Franklin's kite.

I bring this up only because of the 5,000 or so categories they got in this poll, one of them I believe is Best Local Character, and I might appreciate that you considered yours truly when wrestling with the difficult choice of thoughtfully choosing the first person, place or thing from off the top of your head.


I would be much appreciative to be your nominee in this category, abso-focking-lutely. I figure if I were to be awarded such august recognition—not to mention, again, that this is my 25th focking anniversary year on the back page of this here newspaper—that I might have what-they-call some leverage when I suggest to the powers-that-be around here that I wouldn't necessarily mind a small stipend once in a while if only for time served, what the fock.


But am I worthy of your vote for Best Local Character in this poll, you may ask? Fock if I know. But let me tell you this about “character”: It was the poet, essayist and philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson who said, “Judge of your natural character by what you do in your dreams.”


Well, Ralphie boy, last night I dreamt that I was shtupping Rita Hayworth—not Ava Gardner, not Lana “The Sweater Girl” Turner, not Betty Grable nor Dietrich, Monroe, or any of these new soda-straw anorexic gals they call “stars” today; no sir, I was shtupping Rita focking Hayworth right out of Gilda
, you betcha—missionary position (mostly), smack-dab upon second base at the old Milwaukee County Stadium in-betweenst games of a sold-out twi-night double-header between our Braves and the Cincinnati Pirates (hey, it's a dream). It's a recurring dream I've had for years and years. And what it says about “natural character” is for you to put in your pipe and smoke.

But if you were to anoint me as Best Local Character, I would assume that by “character” you meant “Moral or ethical strength; integrity; fortitude”; and not “character” as in the old, toothless, skivvie-soiled jackass sidewinder lolling outside the saloon in a movie Western, who will “dance” for a drink when the bad guys come shootin'-it-up into town. OK? Thanks.


And just so you know, to be voted as Best Local Character, I refuse to pander to any vote-laden constituency, especially the so-called Christian right nutbags. Listen, I don't go to church. And even if I did, I know I'd be pissing and moaning all the time as to why they have to put the church on goddamn Sunday for christ sakes. In this day of age, people are too busy to go to church on their day off Sundays. Years ago in the olden days, the people, they got their day of rest and so they went to church 'cause what the hell else did they have to do with their time off anyways besides go on a crusade, ain'a?


The people back way when, they didn't have a garage to paint. They didn't have something that needed fixing in the basement. They didn't have a ballgame to watch on the TV. And that's because the people back then weren't allowed to own anything. They couldn't even own a pot to pee in, and probably couldn't afford to rent one either, what the fock.


The kings and the liege lords and the plutocratic who-the-focks owned everything under the goddamn sun, and going to church was the only thing the regular Tom, Dick and Dickless were allowed to do except work like slaves for some rich dickweed until they croaked.


If these hardcore religious right-wing nut groups were really serious instead of full of shit about how they believe the common man should behave with the morals all the time, they would put church on a Monday morning or a Tuesday afternoon and let the working-man go to the church on company time instead of on his own little precious time. Heck, I might even go to church now and then if I knew I was getting paid for it, 'cause I'm Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
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