Pool_1

Vietnam." Sumner didn't flinch at this as Osten's took note but staying out of the flow. "All idealism, no savvy. Can't vote for any of these guys. George is dead in the starting blocks. What's the deal with him? He's not even running. I really don't think he wants to win. Seriously. And Perot! Thinks he can simply boss congress around? Jes do it. Yeah, right. Where is Henry Krajewski when I need him?" "Who?" came from several. The general rambling conversation tossed about the fragmentary remembrances of the deceased pig farmer from Secaucus who ran in just about every election for president - on a hog farming platform. "No, no. You'll see," Shannon nudged. Do it for ME. Health care is the only real issue," as the table got to hooting and hissing, which she ignored. " Your kids, all those kids that you break your neck for, day in - and day out, they need something better. They need to be in the system." Mac responded, "In the meat grinder you mean.... or worse," with a long pause and an overhead thrashing gesture of a drowning swimmer, " ... in the pool." This last comment, apparently from out of nowhere, referencing nothing that came before, just brought silence, as the many furrowed brows were scanning memory banks for potential relevance. They were accustomed to Macaluso's tendency to resurrect ancient and little known events. Prizes of affirmation went to whoever could reel in these slippery fish. No one hooked this one. "What?" with a what the hell you babbling about grimace that only Shannon could make, willing to show her ignorance. "I've got four chicken pox hours to kill, and I can't bear doing charts right now. If you want to learn about reality, about the pool, I'll tell you, but it won't be short..." You have to wonder why, after all these years, he would resurrect from the depths of his past - his childhood, really - stories of inconsequential experiences as if they were