Notes From a Dive Bar XXXXV - Trumped


On the box, Trump looks like he is having a good time ranting and raving. Talking about The Deal.

He plans to replace Social Security, says Phil, lonesome, on a fix for politics. He's going to replace it with room service. Once a month, a senior can order a sandwich and it will be delivered to their door, by Amazon.

This is how rumors start. Drunks like Phil make up a story and it spreads from one bar stool to the next, then out the door into the next bar, and before you know it, Twitter does its viral job and the candidate is forced to deny the rumor to CNN's Wolf Blitzer, a man with war in his name.

I mute Trump on the box. But we can still hear him.

What's he saying now? asks Phil.
He wants to know if you want the ham and cheese or the chicken salad sandwich? I say. Wait, he's saying if you work until you're 80, he'll throw in a packet of chips with the sandwich.
I'm voting for him, says Phil, convinced.

I toss him a packet of Lays to get him used to the taste of the future.

Chips are what makes America great, says Phil.
That and fun, I say. In other countries, they hate fun.
I know, says Phil. I went to Canada once.
Was it fun? I ask.
Was it f***, says Phil, dipping a Lays in his beer.
Do you want to share a bucket of wings? he asks.
Yes, I say.
I love wings, he says. I just love licking my fingers.
That's always fun, I say.
Let's order a large bucket because we can.
He leaves for KFC.
I swipe his money from the bar and put it in my tip jar.
He returns with the wings. I eat more than half.
A good deal. He paid for it. Fun ain't free.