2 minutes ago
I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So I hear
another solar eclipse has come and gone. And I’ll tell you’s, a couple-three
minute sun and moon shadow dance is no big focking deal to me, hell no, not to
a guy who’s been in eclipse for years,
I kid you not.
Yeah
yeah, I saw the photo of our President Orange Circus Peanut staring up at the
eclipse (retina-schmetina, those
astronomer scientists think they know everything, fock ’em); thus completing
the trifecta. And by that I mean he’s always had “dumb” nailed, you bet. He’s
got “deaf” in his hip pocket, since he can’t and won’t listen to anyone or
anything but his own meshugah inner
demons. And now he’s going for “blind.” What a guy. What the fock.
And
speaking of blind, what’s with the big focking type you ask? It’s so I can read
what I’m whipping out on this page here. Apparently, I, too, may have gazed,
sans safety glasses, at the goddamn eclipse a smidge longer than recommended
and now my eyesight seems to have gone all ferkakta
on me, for crying out loud. Cripes, I knew I probably should’ve slaughtered and
sacrificed a goat before the eclipse like I had planned. If I had, maybe I’d be
just peachy now instead of wondering if I should ask for a tin cup and cane for
Christmas this year, what the fock.
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