Elwood, a gateway to six major rail lines,
has seen the emergence of immense warehouse projects from the country’s
rural town south of Chicago is now a crucial stop for Amazon, Wal-Mart,
IKEA, Home Depot, and other giant retailers. Developers had promised
growth and good jobs. So why is everyone so miserable?"
my merry munchkins! How are you? As I write this, the sun is trying
to peek out, but for the most part the days have been a winter gray.
What's been abundantly missing is the s-word. (Shhhh! Don't say it
too loud.) The lack of it is disastrous for the wildlife and the
landscape. What can you do? I think it's the result of climate
change. The weather is screwed up everywhere. Glaciers and arctic
areas are melting. Scientists are discovering permafrost uncovered,
and melting. (Not so perma-,eh?) Much of the worst of our winters
has disappeared. Nature has difficulty responding quickly. A
hundred species a day go extinct. We're all going to hell.
looks like the Green Bay Packers are hiring Matt LaFleur, offensive
coordinator for the Tennessee Titans, as their new head coach. Oh
boy. That still doesn't help the problem of an injury prone
quarterback. Give Rodgers some coaching position. Try to dump him.
Groom a new quarterback, one that doesn't get his bell rung in every
game. Or else put a steel cage around Rodgers.
wonder if Foxconn took into consideration the effect that just their
announcements have had on local labor and supplies. Everything has
gone way up in cost, and even if you can afford it, you can't find
it. Will this slow down the progress of Foxconn in building their
factories? I would assume so. The stresses that such an operation
inflict upon our local economy are telling. It's kind of like the
gold rush in the wild West. Every man for himself! Soon, there will
be gunfire over something. Welcome to the USA!
have a new governor in Wisconsin, Tony Evers. He says he's going to
veto the poop out of a lot of the so-called “lame-duck legislation”
that the Republicans enacted. Oh boy. Another fight. Nationally,
Trump picks fights left and right. Half the government is shut down
because of his fight with Democrats over The Wall. His fight with
China has resulted in trade wars that are hurting both sides.
Everyone is fighting someone. What happened to the love generation?
Boy, that “revolution” didn't last long.
once held the door to a fast food restaurant open for an elderly
gentleman and his wife. His eyes met mine and he said, “The world
is changing.” I said, “I know.” I should have added that I'm
not going to change for the sake of change. Let the world change.
I'll still have manners and dignity. As will Señor
Zanza and Junior. Or I'll slap them silly.
Here's a funny from Lewis Black on drinking in Wisconsin:
Enjoy the "warm" weather. Take a walk. Say "hi" to your neighbors. Pet a dog. Chase a cat. Wave to motorists. Don't get beat up. _________________________ Please donate: paypal.me/jgmazelisIf you don't like PayPal, send me a note at firstname.lastname@example.org and I'll send you my street address so you can send a check or money order. Thank you.
I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So yeah yeah, there was no regular Shepherd
issue last week and if you enjoyed my absence, you’re in luck ’cause
come next issue I’ll be on a week’s medical leave on account of having
one cataract carved out of an eyeball—the other one due to be scraped
out in February sometime I’m guessing, what the fock.
And you bet I’m sure as heck looking forward to this schmutz-removal,
so much that I’ve been on the inter-focking-net pricing tin cups and
canes so that when my procedure somehow gets botched, I’ll have the
necessary means to earn a living.
So right now, I’m at the Shepherd office to pick up a
couple, three items, whip out this essay and check the mail since I
haven’t been here for a while. And lo and behold, I got a package from
my would-be guardian angel El Jefe out of Maryland, the “Old Line
State,” containing a fabulous tub of Old Crow, I kid you not.
God bless the Jef’ because the Crow is the only thing I got for
Christmas that I asked for. Once again this year, Santa, the fat fock,
did not deliver to me the busload of Vegas showgirls I asked for. Nor
did he deliver the personal butler I requested, the one who would keep
me seasonally sartorially correct, manage my daily schedule such as it
is, and make me a nice egg sandwich now and then.
So I really ought to cut this essay short and commence taste-testing
the Old Crow to make sure it hasn’t gone bad. But before I do, I also
got to tell you I noticed I received a letter postmarked sometime before
Christmas. The writer asked me for advice, what the fock. He wrote: Hey Artie, the wife wants a new puppy for Christmas. I know they
don’t sell them at your Best Buy or Old Navy. Any idea where I should
The letter even contained a self-addressed stamped envelope for my
reply. Well, Christmas has come and gone, hasn’t it. Had I been able to
reply in a timely fashion, this is what I would’ve wrote: Yeah, I’ve got an idea where you should go. How ’bout
Divorce Court? Full disclosure: My scariest thought is whether or not
animals get to go to heaven. For christ sakes, that’s all a guy like me
needs is to spend his entire focking life busting his butt, finally gets
puking sick, croaks, walks through the Pearly Gates and the first thing
that happens is he steps right smack-dab into one heaping, heaving pile
of dog-doo. Praise the lord. And this is supposed to be for eternity ever-after? I’ll tell
you’s, I want to be buried with a rolled-up newspaper so that when I’m
shaking hands with St. Peter and some canine starts humping my leg, I
can give it one good ol’ whack right across the goddamn snout. I pray they must go to the other place, ’cause spending a couple,
three eternities in the company of household pets and assorted animals
sure sounds like focking hell to me. Or at least that these creatures
would have their own animal heaven where they could all go and sniff
each other’s butts and leave mine alone. That I could live with ’cause
when it comes to other species—your animal and insect societies to name
two—you can call me a “specie-ist,” but I firmly believe in a “separate,
the hell with equal” kind of arrangement, you betcha.
So, before I go, I really ought to close-up Art’s Ba-ding! Boutique
now that the holidays are mercifully focking kaput. But I see I’ve got
one item left, so take it if you can use it. It’s yours: A very spiritual and holy priest dies and is swept up to heaven.
St. Peter greets him at the Pearly Gates, and says, “Hello Father,
welcome to Heaven! You are very well known here, and as a special reward
because you are such a devout man, we’re going to grant you anything
you wish even before we enter the Kingdom. What can I grant you?” And the priest says, “I am a great admirer of the Virgin Mother.
I’ve always wanted to talk to her.” St. Pete nods his head to one side,
and who should approach the priest but the Virgin Mary! The priest is overcome with joy and says, “Mother, I have always
been a great admirer of yours and followed your life as best I could. I
have studied everything I could about you—every painting and portrait
ever made of you, and I’ve noticed without fail that you are portrayed
bearing a wistful expression. Forever I’ve wondered what it was that
made you seemingly so melancholy.” And Mother Mary says, “Honestly, I
was really hoping for a girl.” Ba-ding!
That’s it. See you next time, I hope, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
On December 19th Drew and I got in a car accident with our 2011 Ford Escape XLT on Main St. and Yougt after delivering Christmas cookies. I was waiting for a car to make a left turn then the car made the left turn and another car hit us in the back on the passenger side of the car. The side air bags came down and Drew's glasses flew onto the dashboard. Our car ended up on the double yellow lines in the middle of the street and the other car ended up on the grass. Come to find out the jerk had no insurance so our insurance paid for a rental car. We are so thankful we gave my daughter our HHR so Drew called her and she came and got us. We are fine.
On January 2nd we got a 2009 Ford Escape XLT with 56,000 miles it is gray. Yes it is a couple years older and has everything the same we had in the other one. We both like this kind of car so this is what we looked for. This time we did not get it from the Ford dealership on Washington Ave in Racine. They did try to sell us a 2009 Ford Escape with 106,000 miles on it for the same price and was forcing a Ford Taurus X on us for the same price this think is like a boat and we kept saying no. I wanted to choke these people so bad. We told them that we would think it over and call them back. So Drew and I picked the one that we have and we got it from Budget Motors of Wisconsin in Kenosha. I did call the dealership back and told them we decided on this one and not to call us back at all.
First picture is from the accident and the second one is the new car.
From rhe Shepherd Express
, Art Kumbalek comes with his column "Art For Art's Sake," more or less every Tuesday. Art's been doing this for more than 30 years, so he must have something to say.
Dear Madame Zoltar
Every Wednesday, Madame Zoltar responds to your queries and comments in her blog, Dear Madame Zoltar. Are the stars in your favor? What to do with that 401K? Find out by sending your questions and thoughts to: email@example.com
“Herb is the healing of a nation, alcohol is the destruction.” Bob Marley
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