For starters, the season of summer begins this
week and all I care to say about that is I’m ready for fall, I kid you
not. So now I got to set aside some time so’s I can gird my loins and
ready my sorry ass for the onerous onslaught of insane insect attack;
loud, crappy music assaulting me from every which way; and the kind of
degree-readings straight out of hell that always make me wonder why I
rented a dinky apartment that’s got the goddamn equator on Venus
running through the middle of the living room, what the fock.
And then there’s the matter of Tim Russert keeling over the other day. And yes, he was abso-focking-lutely one of my favorite news guys, and he was also a guy who happened to be born in the same year as yours truly. Focking swell. Now I got the mortality heebie-jeebies slapping me in the kisser. And that’s a lot to think about, especially the “afterlife” thing. A lot of people think it’s going to be perfect, but I don’t know. I’m no expert on the subject, but I’m willing to wager there’s no ashtrays in the afterlife, so right there, that’s less-than-perfect in my book and now I’m going to have to put up with less-than-perfect for the rest of eternity? Forget about it.
Anyways I got to go gird, but I’ll leave you with a little story that may speak to the above, what the fock: So these three gals died and were brought to the gates of heaven where they got the red light from St. Peter and his obedient angel. St. Peter asked the ladies, “Before entering, you must answer one simple question.”
St. Pete turned to the first gal, “Have you been a good girl?” And she said. “Yes sir. I was a virgin before I got married and remained so throughout the marriage.”
“Very good,” said St. Peter, “Angel, to her please give the golden key.” And St. Peter addresses the second gal, “Have you been a good girl?” “Oh, quite good,” she said. “I was a virgin before I got married, and then, well, then I wasn’t.”
“Very good, my dear,” said St. Peter. “Angel, give this woman the silver key.”
St. Pete turns to the third gal, “Have you been a good girl?” And she
says, “Oh my, hard to say. Let’s see, I had sex with practically every
guy I ever met, before, during and after I got married. Anywhere,
And St. Peter says, “I see. Angel, would you please give to this girl… my room key.” Ba-ding! ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.