From the City that Always Sweeps

BY ART KUMBALEK

From The City That Always Sweeps

BY ART KUMBALEK

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? So listen, I hear it’s already the month of December that includes the Christmas day. Yes, December, the so-called 12th, and last, month of this year according to experts who track this kind of stuff, what the fock.

But, hold on St. Nick, and is that your real name? Didn’t we have a “December” just a year ago about this time? Cripes, do I sniff a possible conspiracy concocted by Big Gift so as to empty our wallets and bank accounts to their benefit for, perhaps, sinister purposes? Hey, you tell me.

And then I’ll tell you’s that this can be a stressful time of year, like you didn’t know that already, ain’a? Jeez louise, you’ve got holiday decisions to make during these inflationary times: Could ancient great-Auntie Helen really use some nice new doilies again or would $1 dollar gift card from Yoga You Betcha be more practical. And there’s Uncle Karl, what, a gallon of Old Crow for him under the tree? Yeah, that’ll be gone by the time Christmas dessert is served, I kid you not.

So many questions, but that’s why I’m here to help you with some answers.

Like the other day, my buddy Ernie gave me a call and asked, “Hey Artie, the wife wants a new puppy for Christmas. I know they don’t sell them at your Best Buy or T.J. Maxx. Any idea where I should go?”

And so I said to Ernie, “Yeah, 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 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 “speciest,” but I firmly believe in a “separate, the hell with equal” kind of arrangement.

And so for holiday assistance with your gift-giving needs, I once again open Art’s Holiday Ba-ding! Boutique ’cause why not this year give everyone on your goddamn Christmas list the gift of laughter? This gift won’t cost you a focking dime and you can use the money saved on a big ol’ bottle of holiday cheer all for yourself and drown your seasonal depression like a bag of cats over the bridge.

My supply chain (and page space) is low this year wouldn’t you know, but here’s an item perhaps you could use:

So this simple shepherd pulled Mary aside shortly after the birth of the Christ child and all the hoopla with the three wise men had died down. He said unto her, “Don’t you think that instead of all this business about ‘Gloria in excelsis Deo’ etcetera, how about a nice simple ‘Season’s Greetings’?” And Mary said unto him, “What, my son from God has come to Earth to deliver the message, ‘Hello, it’s winter’? Focking forget about it.” Ba-ding!

So, there you go. And as a devotion upon an emergent occasion, I wish you happy holidays, merry Christmas, joyous whatever-it-is-you-got-deserves-celebrating. And to all: I hope you get what’s coming to you, right here, right now, and I mean that in the best way. Be damn sure to celebrate this holiday good and plenty. You just can’t ever be 100 per-focking-cent sure that it may not be the last one you’ll get; so make it a good one, what the fock, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.