Art Kumbalek

And just so you’s know, I do look forward to the gemütlichkeit of the Oktoberfest to be bacchanaled, curiously, in September.

Need some click-bait that has nothing to do with the 75 bands from Liverpool, England, who you never heard about ’cause they never got a recording contract back then in the Mod Sixties?

Since I’ve got nothing better to do other than watch American democracy follow the Titanic to the bottom of the sea, what say we dip into ol’ Art’s Gag Bag.

I got to cut this blather short ’cause right now I got to go meet with my trusted non-funded campaign brain trust so as to discuss my political future vis-à-vis my soon-to-be runs for governor, state attorney general and who knows what the fock else.

So listen, I’ve come to wonder that if over the years there has not been at least of tinge of the toxic element mercury included daily in the dye of the comb-over coiffure used to mask the fact that President Orange Circus Peanut is a bald guy.

So listen, do you hear what I hear, that another long stressful wallet-emptying holiday season has finally come and gone—for most of you’s, but not for me, no sir.

So listen, the other week I tuned into our Milwaukee Brewers home-game versus the San Diego Padres (Padres? What the hell kind of fear-striking nickname is that?), what the fock.

Now, I could tell you’s that it’s been known as “June” since the year 1582 when Pope Gregory XIII dicked with the ol’ rusty Julian calendar and decided to name the sixth month of year after the Roman goddess Juno.

So listen, here’s a newsy bit to start your day (to borrow a phrase from the late, great Milwaukee Sentinel columnist Alex Thien)

Maybe some of you’s got a quandary on your hands—that being do I spend my dough at Summerfest, or do I take a pricey trip to Washington D.C. where party “President” McDonald Trumpel-thinskin intends to host the “Great American State Fair"