I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a
world, ain’a? And yes, I hear we got Father’s Day coming up this Sunday and
I’ll tell you’s, with the bad rap fathers have got in the press and on the TV
for far too long, I’m surprised the day is celebrated at all. Cripes, why don’t they just go ahead and change
Father’s Day to Deadbeat Dad’s Day, or Workaholic
Dad-You’re-Never-Around-The-Focking-House-When-We-Need-You Day, what the fock.
And yes, I’m too
busy to serve up an essay here again this week. Foremost, I’m about to leave
for the Uptowner tavern/charm school where me and the fellas shall gather to
make our Polish Fest plans for the weekend. Yeah yeah, perhaps “she’s too fat
for me,” but you can bet your buck two-eighty that never not ever is “she too
drunk for me,” you betcha.
And yes, I am
reminded that June 16 is to celebrate the 113th anniversary of the novelistic
day that took an Irish guy by the name of James Joyce practically 10 million
pages and who knows how many gallons of whiskey to write about, lo, those years
ago—perhaps the greatest focking novel nobody’s never not ever read all the way
through.
And yes, I’m
reminded of a little story:
Once
upon a time and a very good time it was, there was an Irishman, an Italian and a
Polish guy in a tavern, sitting around and enjoying a couple, three rounds of
cocktails. James, the Irishman, says, “Aye, this is a nice bar, but where I
come from, back in Dublin, there’s a better one. At Lucky’s, you buy a drink,
you buy another drink, and Lucky himself will buy your third drink!” The others
agree that it sounds like a nice place.
Then
Dante the Italian guy says, “Yeah, that’s a nice bar, but where I come from,
there’s a better one. Over in Brooklyn, there’s this place, Pozzo’s. At Pozzo’s,
you buy a drink, Pozzo buys you a drink. You buy another drink, Pozzo buys you
another drink.” They all agree that also sounds like a very great bar.
Then
the Polish guy, let’s call him Kumbalek, says, “You’s guys think that’s great?
In my neighborhood, there’s this place called Godotski’s. At Godotski’s, they
buy you your first drink, they buy you your second drink, they buy you your
third drink, and then they take you in the back and get you some action!”
The
other two guys are smithied with wonderment. “That’s fantabulous! Did that
actually happen to you?” they want to know. And Kumbalek, the Polish guy, says,
“No, but it happened to my sister!” Ba-ding!
And yes, then
later, Kumbalek approached a lady named Didi wouldn’t you know, sitting
solitary at the end of the bar. A man of direct address, Kumbalek said he’d
been waiting to meet an attractive gal such as she was, and told her he’d like
to get into her pants, if that were to be copacetic. Didi says, “No thanks,
there’s an ass in there already.” Ba-ding-ding-ding!
And
yes, about the state of today’s health care: Guy goes to the doctor. Doctor
says, “I have some bad news, and some very bad news.” The guy says, “Might as
well give me the bad news first, I guess.” Doctor says, “The lab called with your
test results. They said you have 24 hours to live.” Guy says, “24 HOURS! You
got to be jerking my beefaroni. So what the fock’s the very bad news?” Doctor
says, “I've been trying to reach you since yesterday.” Ba-ding!
And
yes, if you are to see dear old dad come Sunday you’re too focking cheap to spring for a gift for the old
fart, how ’bout you bring him a nice little story?
One day, during a lesson on
proper grammar, the teacher asked for a show of hands for who could use the
word “beautiful” in the same sentence twice. First, she called on little Molly,
who responded with, “My father bought my mother a beautiful dress and she
looked beautiful in it.”
“Very good, Molly,” replied
the teacher. She then called on little Stephen.
“My mommy planned a beautiful
banquet and it turned out beautifully,” he said.
“Excellent, Stephen!” Then,
the teacher called on little Leo.
“Last night, at the dinner
table, my sister told my dad that she was pregnant, and he said, ‘Beautiful.
That’s just FOCKING beautiful!’” Ba-ding!
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