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An’ a One, An’ a Two, An’ a…

Oct. 9, 2013
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I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, I’m smack-dab stuck in the middle of a family dental emergency over here, so I got myself about fifteen focking minutes to rattle off whatever comes off the top of my head, I kid you not:

Saw in the papers how our Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra concluded their fiscal year with the Fugue in Red Ink major to the tune of a $1.8 million deficit, what the Bach. And I got a couple, three suggestions how to turn that ballad of despair into a peppy toe-tapper allegro con brio, what the fock.

How ’bout that symphony work a little harder to put on a better show for both young and old? Get rid of those funereal penguin suits and go black or iridescent Spandex. For fashion tips, they ought to check out the Lady Gaga catalogue.

And show a little professional respect for the audience and memorize those tunes they play for christ sakes. If you don’t know the material well enough that you still got to read it off a chart come gig time, then play something else you know better.

What about some choreography sprinkled through the never-ending orchestral concert? I’m talking ’bout a little synchronized steppin’ by the string section during a rousing Tchaikovskian third movement. Come to think of it, how ’bout these symphony players just plain get off their butts when they work, now that they’ve finally memorized their music as I’ve suggested above.

I’ll tell you, you’d never catch James “The Godfather of Soul” Brown performing his Funky Popcorn Suite whilst sat on his hinder in a chair, no sir. You brass—get up on your feet and shake your ass. Woodwinds—can you take it to the bridge? Take me to the bridge one time, good god y’all, HUHHH!

And maybe sprinkle in a couple of snappy jokes amidst the renditions of dirges and requiems:

Hey everybody, what do a viola and a lawsuit have in common? Everybody’s happy when the case is closed. Ba-ding!

Or, Why was the conductor booed at the grocery store? Hey, he forgot his Chopin-Liszt. Ba-ding-ding-ding!

And the symphony’s always going around begging for contributions like a bunch of buskers. C’mon, that’s for amateurs. You don’t see the 101 Strings doing that, do you? Why not sell T-shirts and posters in the lobby? And for crying out loud, get some concessionaires working the crowd. I’ll bet plenty of concertgoers could sure go for a hot dog and an ice-cold bottled beer along with their Rimsky-Korsakov. I know I would, what the fock

How ’bout promotional giveaways like sports teams do. Silk Purse Night—free imitation silk handbags to all gals over age 62. Wine Goblet Evening, or Conductor’s Baton Day for kids.

And speaking of public/private institutions always short of dough, what about our public museum? I’m not sure where they are financially right now, but it seems that often in the past they could preserve all kinds of things except a profit.

Then we’ve also got a big brouhaha in southeast Wisconsin over whether or not the Menominee can start up a gambling casino down there in Kenosha. How ’bout for starters we let them set up a couple, three dozen slot machines that could be located nearby the museum’s North American Indian exhibit? The museum would get a cut of the earnings, plus I think it would make for a nice historically contemporary addition to the exhibit. Hey, what museum-goer wouldn’t enjoy knowing that after looking at a bunch of focking fossils and the mummy, they still had a shot at going home with a couple extra grand just by pulling the arm belonging to Cheers Lucky Round or Super Monopoly Money up on the second floor, ain’a?

Not to mention in regards to our museum’s financial profitability, an idea I’ve trotted by you’s all more than once but perhaps “bares” repeating: Would it really be the end of the world if, in the interest of financial solvency, the museum installed a hands-on interactive bordello on the Streets of Old Milwaukee, a bordello like Our Town used to sport down there on Front Street, or was it Edison Street? Mom and the kids could peruse the Puelicher Butterfly Wing whilst Dad hit the Streets to explore the sultry mystery of turn-of-the-century tail. Everybody’s happy, ain’a?

Except me, I got to go get another cavity in my wallet that defies filling, what the fock, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.


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