Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Dear Madame Zoltar

 Hello, winners and losers!  How are you?  Our temperatures are in that phase between seasons when one day will be hot and the next day cool.  We're getting less and less daylight, too. Slowly but surely, the s-word will be here.  I hate that stuff.  And it probably hates me.

It was good to see our Green and Gold heroes whop the Detroit Lions.  The upcoming week is a bye week for the Packers.  I don't like it when the bye week is so early in the season. Just call me superstitious.

Here are the standings of the Irregular Football League:

It's obvious we need to get some work done, and we're doing it.

I boycotted Party on the Pavement again.  Sooner or later, they'll realize what a great act I have.  It'll be too late then. I'll be connected to another venue then.

There is so little happening in my life, I can't come up with decent subject matter.  Or indecent.  Maybe it's the time of year.

You know that I love you all.  And thank you to those who reciprocate.

Check for all of your needs.

Thanks, again, to all of my lovers and haters for stopping by. 

Open Blog - Wednesday

Have a super wow day.

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

"Up to Here"

From Shepherd Express:

By Art Kumbalek 2 minutes ago

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So here, I’m watching the debate the other night and I’ll tell you, listening to ArmagedDon Trump talk about nuclear stuff would be like me explaining the rules of cricket. Both could be summarized in three words: Not a focking clue. OK, four, what the fock.

After the debate, I’m guessing a lot people yearned to know the difference between a supposed wealthy-ass candidate for political office and a sack of manure—I figure it’s got to be the sack, ain’a?

And I was reminded that, hey, I’m still a candidate for office and I should’ve also been planted on that presidential podium ’cause I can make up bullshit just as easily as the Hair Ball can, I kid you not. 

Now, early voting has started and if you’re still, unbelievably, undecided as to where to stick your vote, you’ve come to the right place, you betcha. For those of you’s who can’t figure out exactly what candidate Art Kumbalek would do for the people, let me be the docent to explain and cipher the big-ass picture we’re gazing at here in the political arena, if I may, and I will.

My dream is that when it comes to your political needs, I would be your one-stop shopping—call me the Art-Mart for the Great Unwashed Public. I could be your county sheriff, mayor, alderman, judge, senator, ambassador, coroner, crossing guard, president; and all under one hat, orange that it be. How convenient would that be for you’s?

No matter what kind of bug-up-your-butt you got, be it local, state, asshole neighbor, nation-wide, wife/girlfriend or worldwide, you just come to Art-Mart and I would sure-as-shootin’ take care of it. With me in all the hallowed halls of offices, you would no longer have to dick around with the County Courthouse, City Hall, town-hall meeting, Madison, D.C., the Hague and who-knows-where. Fock no. Just come to me. Come to Art-Mart where you’ll find value for all your political needs, I kid you not. All you got to do is get off your ass and vote.

How ’bout that. Still undecided? OK, let’s talk about an issue, say, the highway robbery on prescription drugs. Get a load of this: 

The Kumbalek Fix: Need a prescription? Write it yourself and then tear it up ’cause you won’t need it, no sir. We’re going to have way-affordable over-the-counter drugs available 24/7 at every supermarket and 7-Eleven from coast to coast for whatever ails you. I especially insist on pills and capsulets to help the focksticks who can’t keep their yaps shut during the motion picture at the movie theater as well as pills to prevent those knobs from waiting until every single focking item in their grocery cart crosses the scanner and be bagged by the plastic-paper consultant before they start fumbling for their checkbook and wad of coupons. And the pot what-they-call-the-marijuana? You bet. You’ll find it in the seasoning section $9.95-an-ounce over by the baking accoutrements. Hey, it’s green, and it comes from the earth just like your tomatoes, cauliflower and daffodils, so how can that be bad for you? You tell me.

And then I’ll tell you that I learned that Don Donald does believe he’s quite the businessman, but just so you’s know, I believe that the ability to run a business does not automatically translate into the ability to govern. For either endeavor, I prefer a guy or gal who’s been there, done that. If I’m putting a band together and I need a clarinet player, I’ll look for a clarinet player and not some blowhard conductor who says he can play clarinet even though he doesn’t know a #2 ½ Rico Royal from his ass from a hole in the ground.

And please don’t forget those Republicans for office, those folks always shooting their mouths off about “limited government and spending,” somehow the last time in power, and the time before that, they managed to grow the bureaucracy to the magnitude of good-golly, and jacked-ass up the spending at a rate no calculator could calculate.

Tax cuts for the rich, so they can reduce the size of government’s helping hand. Yes sir, whittle the helping hand down to a finger—the middle one, which they’ll gladly raise to anyone who could use a little help, now and then, here and there, what a world, don’t forget, what the fock,

Come to think of it, forget about Art-Mart, because I do believe that the Trumpeter does fashion himself to be quite the job creator, and the job he’s created for you and me is to go to the polls on Nov. 6 and vote Democrat top to bottom, what the fock, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.

Read more:


Open Blog - Tuesday

Yes, try twice as hard.

Friday, September 23, 2016

Four for Fridays!

Good morning everyone how was your week for me it went by to fast. I hope you have a good weekend. Here are your questions for today.

1) When was the last time you took a road trip?

2) Would you ever want to take to a trip to outer space?

3) If you took a trip to outer space what planet would you like to visit?

4) What about nature fascinates you the most?

Open Blog - Friday

Oh yeah!

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Dear Madame Zoltar

Hello my dear friends!  How are you?  I'm broke, so when a call came in from the Bahamas from one of my best customers, I flew there.  I just got back a few hours ago.  So that's why my blog is late.  And it's a crappy day out there, cold and wet.  I know that the landscape needs the rain, but it's depressing.  And I'd swear that some of the rain drops were actually s-word.  I know, I know, were headed that way whether we like it or not.  Put me down for "not."

I look to local news but all I see are political lies and gore.  It's way beyond depressing in that area.  Criminals and fools are the best the local news can do.  I swear, someday I'm going to get a job at the Journal Times and change everything.  That's right after I fix the rest of the world.

Everybody's fighting somebody.  There's so many players on the field that I can't keep track of them.  Or, rather, perhaps I don't want to.

Just like I don't want to believe that our heroic warriors Green Bay Packers were laid low by the Minnesota Vikings.  The tune will change this time, as Lambeau Field hosts the Detroit Lions, at noon, Sunday, September 25.  Murder da bums, boys!

Here's the standings from the Irregular Football League:

I guess that neither I nor Mr. OrbsCorbs have anything to brag about.  We'll see what next week brings.

I can't take the drone of the political ads and interviews and "events."  My mailbox is stuffed almost daily with political ads.  The television spews their bile regularly.  It's only going to get worse as election day approaches.  Also, those oversize, high gloss, political ads barely fit in my mailbox.

And the thing is it's almost all bullshit.  In any case, most voters decided who they're to vote for months ago.  Wouldn't the money expended on these mailings and TV ads be put to better use helping the lowest in our society?  Of course it would, but you'll never see it.  The candidates will all come out with some bullshit plans to help the poor.  They'll talk on and on, BUT the poor rarely see a cent.  More importantly, it robs them of a chance at a job.  That BS money could help train people for the jobs of today.

If I ran for president, I think I'd keep it at a very low key.  I wouldn't go around the country promising lies to each group I met.  I wouldn't send out any political mailings.  I'd announce my candidacy, and have copies of my master plan available.  If any reporters want to talk to me, they have to come to me.  I'd have an online base of operations with said master plan available for downloading.  I guess I'd have  to go to the debates, but I'm not a performer.  I'll say what needs to be said.  I might even win.

Hah!  Imagine OrbsCorbs with his finger on the nuclear trigger.  I might just take everybody, a city or country or two, out of circulation.  If the French don't like it, fuck them.When's the last time you heard about the French winning a war?  I'd pull all of our troops out of other countries.  If something flares up, it's their business.  If they insist upon making their business our business, we nuke 'em.  After a couple of those, the world just might be a finer place.

Well, thank you, my dears, for stopping by to read my blog and maybe share a comment or two.  I love getting readers, and I love you.  We are family.

Who is going to win this weeks match ups in the Irregular Football League?  Ask

Don't forget to stop by next week.  We'll be here with new and interesting content.  Heck, just about every day has that on the JT Irregulars.  We love you.

Open Blog - Wednesday

Yay, Wednesday!

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Citizens FUnited

From Shepherd Express:

By Art Kumbalek 4 hours ago

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, I hear our Governor Snidely Whiplash’s billionaire-boat, the USS Pay For Play, has sprung a leak, what the fock.

Here’s what I know, and it’s the strangest thing. Some days ago I thought to check my dinky email inbox. I only get about a handful per week—messages from Sears about their latest sale on men’s socks, and like ilk—but I couldn’t get the goddamn thing to open. So me, being a regular Mr. Dell Jobs, assumed the logical thing to do would be to curse a blue streak whilst rapidly hammering random buttons along with a flurry of combined random buttons. Sha-focking-zam! Not only did the inbox pop to life but I had way, way over 1,000 new messages to gander at, I kid you not
None of them were for me. All were addressed to and sent by people I’d never heard of. Jeez louise, had I accidentally hacked into someone else’s schmutz? So of course I began to open these babies so’s to take a peek and maybe get a fix on what the fock was going on here.

The first one I opened said this: Hey, since the Governor is so ecstatic that our lead paint provision passed the Legislature, should Scooter’s new nickname be ‘Sherwin’ or ‘Dutch Boy’?

The next one: OMG. The Guv confessed to me that he had a HUGE crush on Bea Arthur when he was younger. Wasn’t she one of those transgender types?

And: To all: The Governor reiterated to me to remind you that at the risk of immediate termination, to never, ever mention to absolutely ANYONE that he always roots for the Bears.

Holy focking cow, ain’a? But before I could open another, the mysterious emails vanished, along with the few older ones addressed to me. Was I hacked? Beats me, but a few moments later a new message popped up. It had no identifying info or text or attachments; however, in the Subject box was this: “Cheerio, Mate.”

Anyways, anybody hear anything about Bart Starr’s latest stem cell treatment down Mexico way? Yeah, me neither. And why the poor guy has to go to a foreign country south of the border, I’ll never focking figure out.

Hope it goes well, although I am surprised there hasn’t been more hubbub about it, in a righteous negative way. Cripes, I remember not that many years back when a whole bunch of citizens were clapping their hands and waving American flags (the special flags, the ones with a 51st star for the State of Ignorance) on account that a U.S. district judge put the kibosh on federal funding for all embryonic stem cell research. These were the people whom the lord told that that glob in a lab dish is a human being and oughtn’t be dicked with.

And what a life, ain’a? I tell you, if that were me flat on my would-be ass in a Petri dish, I’d say who needs this bullshit. All around me I’d hear the lab guys and gals making lunch plans, going out for a smoke break, making plans for the weekend and all the time there I am, stuck in a dish. That’s no way to live, I don’t care who—or what—you are, or were, I kid you not.

As one sitting in a dish, I sure as shootin’ would want the scientists to get their butts in gear and figure out the way to grow me into some kind of human tissue, so I could replace the crappy cells inside a real, live, walking-around human being. Now that would be sweet.

Yeah, get out of the dish and get planted into some guy who’s going to start feeling a whole lot better because of me, and then watch out! We’ll take in a ballgame, have a couple, three ice-cold bottled beers.

Maybe take a walk along the beach, or decide to screw it and just stay home, make a nice baloney sandwich and watch us some TV. Or wait, best yet, we’ll go get us a wad of singles yea-thick and head on over to the nearest gentlemen’s club and research the female form. Now that’s what I call living.

And you know what? Apparently it’s not too late to help these human beings stuck in lab dishes get a real life. Write all your bonehead politicians and tell them you demand that they either push real hard to get the green light for unlimited funding for this eggs-cell-ent research (there’s money to be made in eradicating disease, what the fock), or you’re going to conduct your own research on replacement politicians to better serve the body politic come next election (early voting starts in a couple, three days, don’t you forget), ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.

Read more:


Open Blog - Tuesday

Keep on truckin, Snoopy!