To wit: I already got a health bill this year for the full amount ($230.00) from a scheduled prostate-cancer checkup last December—a blood test and a piss-in-the-cup, “here’s your hat, what’s your hurry”—that doesn’t even mention the 50-focking-dollars as co-pay I had to fork over to the gal-behind-the-window before I could take a seat in the nicely appointed waiting-area and peruse their what-the-fock collection of periodicals (what, no Bendover, no Cavalier, no Teen Tarts of the Hohenzollerns?).
So now I got to chew up valuable personal time and get on the phone—when I should more importantly be relaxed on my sofa whilst monitoring my TV so as to be able to report accurately on the celebration of the descent of “American culture” from dumb to dumber (I could also spend some time learning how to write shorter sentences, ain’a?)—to some kind of HMO or another so’s to try and figure out why I’m expected to all of a sudden take one up the butt sideways when the “co-pay” had been good enough for each of the previous four years? Has the “co-pay” been increased to include the waxing and polishing of the receptionist’s car not to mention buying her daughter a nice focking dress for spring prom, and somehow I wasn’t informed? Hey, you tell me.
And then I’ll tell you’s that they can kiss my ass if they think I’m going to pay that bill. As of right now, I’m privatizing my bank account, which means no payment for bullshit medical bills. Like it or lump it, but the shysters and connivers who’ve dipped their wick into the health of the unfortunate need to go, to hell, now.
But I digress. Here it is mid-January, and I figure since I’m on such a roll with my predicting, I thought I better quick whip out the pair of crystal balls I keep on hand for this kind of line of work and make hay while the day is long for getting more specific.
You know, your average run-of-the-hack newspaper columnist loves to write the yearly “predictions” column ’cause all he has to do is come up with a bunch of bullshit as quick as he can, call it done and get to his stool at the nearest tavern earlier in the afternoon than usual. But since I hold a loftier position—that of essayist—I’m forced to take a little more personal responsibility for whatever it is that comes out in the paper under my focking name; so you can really trust that the following is what I truly see occurring at some point during 2010, I kid you not.
And I don’t exactly want to say that I feel pretty gosh darn good about my soothsaying ways, but between you and me, if you’re a betting man I suggest you refinance the house and raid the kid’s college fund for a little scratch to lay down ’cause what follows is a free ticket to ride the gravy train that delivers all passengers to Fat Cat City, provided you got the guts to make a little wager here and there.
2010 in a Soothsaying Nut’s Shell
- The Alabama Crimson Tide will best the Longhorns out of Texas for the BCS national championship. (Hell, I’ll even give you the score: 37-20, maybe 21.)
- The Russians invent the telephone, declare that radio and shoddy real-estate deals in the United States soon to follow.
- Art Kumbalek nominated for Tony Award as best actor in the Broadway smash-hit musical/docudrama of the ’10-’11 season, Art Kumbalek vs. the Focking Martians and Whatever Else You Got Under the Rainbow.
- Former President George W. Bush takes job as head-greeter at Nevada casino, shortly thereafter sentenced to death for shooting a man in Reno, just to watch him die.
- Art Kumbalek performs emergency open-heart surgery on “health-care-reform” ass-wipe Sen. Joe Lieberman.
- Art Kumbalek delivers cuss-laden snarky eulogy at Lieberman funeral.
- There will be a sucker born every minute.
- Erstwhile hockey mom Sarah Palin dies in delivery of her and Tiger Woods’ love child—last words are, “I can see Amen Corner from here,” you betcha.
- Here’s a two for one: A stunningly sudden and quixotic evolutionary modification leaves pigs the ability to fly, and the Sarah Palin wing of the Republican Party adopts and adapts words by the late U.S. Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan (D-N.Y.) as their new motto: “Ideological certainty easily degenerates into insistence upon ignorance.”
- Jesus H. Christ returns to Earth, replaces Simon Cowell on TV’s “American Idol.”
- Rodgers—Kumbalek ... touchdown!
- Too many tears.
- At the end of the year, Art Kumbalek predicts that 2011 will suck even more than 2010 did and re-predicts for ’11 anything he predicted for ’10 that didn’t come to pass, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.