From the Dumpster to Your Table

I am Art Kumberek, oh Manischwitz, what a world! So listen, some may say I may be depressed, but thanks to neck pain and just around the corner from my tiny Bastille-era apartment And I’m fine these days. “Beer in the Streets, Les Boulevards Ui Ui” Fest – we Milwaukeans are meant to celebrate the contribution of French culture, but as far as I can tell, it’s boring philosophy, surrender, and stinky cheese/jelly. The idolatry of Lewis. , guillotine, who what, 60s black and white new wave movies, and shit mime-Think it’s a hard box to get out of? look: cool hand rook. This is a box, no kidding.

And this weekend the 120th anniversary of the Harley-Davidson Homecoming festivities blew up all over town (Is this just me? HD doesn’t seem like there’s some kind of anniversary around here like every month? mosquito?)

Anyway, I dug through my usual dizzying search to find out who was the first U.S. president to ride a motorcycle, and what I found was William McKinley. That’s all. Swell. To President Bill’s dismay, the car happened to be a 1901 motorized ambulance that had been taken to a hospital after it was assassinated in Buffalo, New York, by Leon Czolgosz, a Polish man from motor city. Perhaps the first record of a road riot by a motor vehicle on the US mainland? Hey, tell me

Then I ask you this: What’s the difference between a Harley-Davidson and a Hoover vacuum cleaner? give up? OK. It’s the position of the sandbag. Badan!!

And once again, Brewtown’s French festival overlaps with the fucking bull-running festival that was held in and around Pamplona, ​​Spain. Paloozas in France could attract more culturally diverse patrons. A benefactor is a benefactor who is brave, not cowardly, who wastes the francs that can be used on parevous and other things.

I think our downtown French shebang can draw international attention and a “cow run” kind of craze every year. So what if, during the French Revolution, you regularly released a few or three rambling bulls into the corners of the swells at Jefferson & Wells to lure in wealthy travelers who were willing to face death? Hey, tell me

And remember I’m here mid-July. My monthly wall calendar, “Trumpet of the South Seas” shows it. The seventh month of the year is the traditional time when workers take a seven-day break from the infernal hell of work, blowing their fatigue away with so-called vacations. holidaysorry in French.

And let me tell you, as a guy my age, I’m not on “vacation” anymore these days. My outings are now limited to trips to the bathroom, kitchen, couch and regular trips to the food mart for slices of baloney, white bread and boxes of popsicles, and beyond is not. However, in some unforeseen circumstances, we may take a bus or taxi to the doctor’s office.

That’s right, even in the past my vacations never turned out the way I wanted them to. Want to know what my vacation was like? They’re the same thing that happened to this guy I know. here:

One day, a man I know was on his way to lunch when he passed a fancy travel agency with a sign in the window that read, “4 Day Cruise Down the Murray River, $40 All Inclusive!”

He couldn’t believe the price. And a nice relaxing river cruise was exactly what he had in mind for that year’s vacation. So he ran into the agency, slammed the two Jacksons against the counter, and told the agency he wanted to book a Murray cruise. The agent said, “Okay, sir,” and swung the baseball bat, knocking the man out to the ice.

There he found himself strapped to a floating log and running down a torrential river. A little further down, I saw another man tied to a log rolling on the other side of the river.

“A $40 Murray Cruise?” he exclaims. “Hey, you, I’m sure,” says a fellow cruiser on the other side.

“This blows. I’m sure I won’t even be able to eat breakfast,” he exclaimed. “I don’t know,” said the other man, “as was the case last year.” Bardin!

Anyway, I have to go. But listen, as a perpetual candidate to be your next office, our badger state has a so-called “swing” that could flip over what office you need to hold here in the Amber Coalition. I have heard that it is one of the states. One way or another, there will be elections. It reminded me of an election trip many years ago, visiting outposts such as Ladysmith, Cadot, Cornell, Black River Falls, Solon Springs and Crandon Town of Burns. PT Focking Barnum.

But let me tell you from that past experience, unless you come late on a Saturday night and hang yourself from a basement beam, the first word that comes to mind during any excursion through these hinterlands is It’s not “swing”. do.

And it’s strange to me that the candidates in the election believe that just by pausing here and stopping there, they can greatly uplift the opinion of elected representatives held by the pastoral side of the electorate. is. Cripes, I remember a previous story that showed how much effort it would take to improve the position of would-be politicians in the cornfield crowd. I don’t know if this story is true, but it is anyway, what the heck.

All state legislators from a state not near either coast were boarding an official state bus touring a remote countryside on Friday afternoon when the driver lost control and the bus crashed into a ditch. After some time, local peasants roamed the area, found the politician lying on the road, and buried him.

Later, just as the farmer finished compacting the soil over the last member of the state legislature, the county sheriff was reported to have arrived on the scene. When the farmer was questioned about the accident, the sheriff asked: “So you buried all the politicians?” ”

The farmer reportedly replied, “Yes, some people say otherwise, but you know how politicians lie.”

Bardin! Because I am Art Kumberek and I told you so.