The boys at Bill's Café finally had the stomach to talk about the election. They were exhausted from the never-ending onslaught of television ads blasting one opponent over another. The commercials were never about policies--just personalities.
"Interesting to see what we get in these next four years," George Thompson muttered over his coffee. "It just don't seem like a flimflam man like Trump can do much to drain the swamp when he has plenty of swamps in his own backyard."
"You mean in his tower," said Joe Johnson. "I voted for the guy, but I didn't feel good about it. I remember Eisenhower--remember when he left office warning about the military-industrial complex running our country? Sounds like that's where we're heading."
"Hard to say. Just like getting a straight answer out of Trump."
"You get plenty of answers from him. He says what he means."
"I mean truthful."
Joe shrugged. "We ever going to know what the truth is?"
Bill walked over and refilled everyone's coffee cups. "Cut the talk about politics. All I know is we can handle our own affairs if we'd just be allowed to do that. Unlike people who live in Washington or Hollywood, we see truth every day in a small town."
George and Joe looked at each other. "You got that right, Bill," George said.
Joe lifted his coffee mug. "I'll drink to that."
