170. Evaporation

NOTE:If you haven’t been following this from the beginning, and if you want to know the full sequence of events, start with the introduction. Click on Archives on the right.

I Find Lou and Diddlie in the Quark Lounge discussing Armond Macadamia’s political ambitions.  She pats the banket beside her without looking up. 

So, I sit next to her.

“See! It’s what happens that exists!”

Lou looks up, polishing his glasses with a paper napkin.

“Hi Fred, put on your philosopher’s hat.”

“The one woven out of propositions?”

“Well, how about the one knitted out of slogans stained with ontology?”

Diddlie waves her hand in the air between us.

“What are you guys talking about?

“Just kidding each other, Did.”

“Well, as I was saying, Armond Macadamia is the candidate to watch for 24.”

“Yeah, I’ll be watching him alright.”

“Lou, I know that look of yours.”

“Sorry Did. But I really wish he would just evaporate!”

“Don’t you get it, Lou?”

“Get what, Diddlie?”

“It’s all entertainment now.”

“What is?”

“Politics, Macadamia is the best entertainer in the running.”

“He is a great distractor. I would agree with that.”

“Right, entertainers distract us from our problems, right Fred?”

Diddlie, turns to me.

“That is part of the job.”

“See, if it is on TV, it is entertainment!”

“and if it is entertaining it is happening.”

“Right Fred, that’s what exists for us all.”

“You mean it is real?”

“Yeah, it really exists. Being entertained is an experience!”

“Where did you get all this?”

“’Rack and Ruin’ It’s a great new website and they do podcasts, too.”

“But Diddlie, I thought you didn’t like tech and all that.”

“I used to hate it. Then Tatiana and Serge turned me into, ‘Tech-woman’.”

“So now you are surfing the web!”

“Oh, I am a champion finder, now.”

“What have you found?”

“Did you know Rack and Ruin bought out, ‘Shrink Rapp’, Lou?”

“No kidding! I haven’t looked at Shrink Rapp since Lark gave it up.”

“Tucker Vanity took over Grant Gazburg’s slot after he died.”

“Diddlie, why do you think people believe this nonsense?

“Vanity doesn’t believe any of it.”

“Yes, but his audience does.”

 “So what? He makes a million a week.”

“Yeah, spreading lies!”

“Who cares? Like I said, that’s entertainment! It makes people feel good.”

Lou puts his round gold-framed glasses back on the bridge of his nose, with a stray eyebrow curling onto the top of the left lens.

The waiter comes by and serves two burgers with fries and one grilled cheese sandwich for Diddlie.

“Wait a minute!”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Sorry, I was talking to these guys.”

The waiter patiently waits.

“Lou, you told me you guys had given up meat.”

“We did.”

She points to our plates with burgers and thin fries piled high like kindling, with a pickle and garnished with a slice of tomato and a tangerine segment arranged on a lettuce leaf.

“So, what is this?

Lou looks at our two plates and pauses.

“I mean, Lou, you have gone back to bad beef with bad consequences for our precious planet.”

“Yup.”

“Is that all you can say?”

“Did. we tried the fake meat once and it didn’t work for us.”

 The waiter bends down to us.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

He goes over to the next booth.

“Yeah, right Fred, and what about our planet’s future?”

“You have a point Did, but Macadamia has no policies and likes beef, so should he win the 24, popularity contest all bets are off for our dear blue planet!”

“Fred, you have been enjoying to too much liberal entertainment!”

“I might say the same to you.”

“Might you?”

“Yeah, all your concern about climate change, which has been called, ‘junk science’ by the entertainer.”

Lou leans forward with a deep frown merging his eyebrows into a fuzzy dark line.

“Don’t tell me you are a Mac supporter.”

“I won’t Lou.”

“Okay then, tell Fred so I can hear.”

“Fred, I am not a Mac supporter I am a reality supporter.”

“What is the difference?”

“Who I vote for.”

Lou leans back and strokes his beard. Lou and I have not had a bite yet, only the allure of aromas.

The waiter returns and fills our silent moments of relief.

“Will that be all?”

“Do you have any passion fruit juice?”

“No ma’am, only apple and orange.”

“Oh, too bad. What about cranberry?’

“No Ma’am, only apple and orange juice.”

“I’ll have some hot tea, please.”

The waiter looks at Lou.

“Another Stella, sir?”

“Sure.”

Diddlie chomps on the pickle beside her grilled cheese.

“We are headed for the most entertaining election yet, in 24!”

“You know Diddlie, most of what Mac says is a mixture of lies and dog whistles.”

“See, it doesn’t matter. 

His audience loves it.”

“Unfortunately, Lou, it is thought that is evaporating.”

“Yeah Fred, drying up like Lake Powell.”

“Guys, he is telling folks what they want to hear.”

“Look at all the free publicity he gets every day!”

“He does have a way of making steamy headlines.”

“He is all over the TV, Fred, that is what counts, not print media.”

“Oh, and what is wrong with newspapers?”

“They are unreal!”

“My newspaper is as real as can be.  Ask Steve Strether’s dog, Ossy, who enjoys shaking it out of the plastic bag, growling at it, and tearing it apart in the driveway.”

“Fred it is just black ink on paper, only the pictures are real, and they can’t compete with TV.”

Lou, who has been feasting steadily, finishes off his burger and swallows his final bit of blissful beefiness.

“Yeah, he knows how to jump on the media merry-go-round.”

“That’s’ right Lou, and he finds all kinds of new ways to get fired up and ready to vote.”

“Well, that’s populism!”

“No Fred, that’s entertainment!”

“Did. this website has given you a new voice!”

“It turned me on to reality.”

Lou drains the last suds of his, Stella.

“I don’t think electing our president is entertainment.”

“Well, politicians are all basically actors, you know.”

“True enough, their appearances have to support their image.”

Lou is looking down at his plate.  He scratches the back of his neck and then looks up poking one of his remaining French fries into his ketchup.

“Diddlie, think about what the election is for, okay?”

“It is to find out who is popular enough to live in the White House.”

“What do you think Mac will do if, God forbid, he turns out to be that popular?”

“Who knows?”

“Don’t you have a problem with that?”

“You can’t argue with reality.”

“Yeah, but elections are also about policy.  Like what will he do?”

“Mac doesn’t do policy.”

“That is my problem with him.  He is a windbag full of gas.”

“Yeah, toxic gas.”

“Oh, come on Fred! You guys don’t get it.”

“Well, I don’t get your point.”

“Fred, policy is boring. It’s like philosophy. It is unreal! you know. Who reads that stuff anyway?”

“Diddlie, I am afraid a whiff of Mac’s gas has carried you away!”

“Sure, has Fred!”

 Diddlie takes a satisfying bite out of her grilled cheese sandwich, which came with olive tapenade, and a Nasturtium flower cradled in the curl of a crisp lettuce leaf, as well as the pickle she has already eaten.

Lou’s second Stella arrives along with Diddlie’s hot tea.

Lou looks up at the waiter.

“Thanks, buddy.”

Diddlie waves the remaining portion of her grilled cheese in thanks as she munches on another mouth full.

After the waiter departs, we sit in silence while Diddlie demolishes her sandwich with crunchy enthusiasm.  She wipes her fingers on a napkin and takes a sip of tea and then pushes her plate aside.

“Guess what guys?”

“What Diddlie?

“Tatiana got a job in New Zeeland.”

“Really, whereabouts?”

“Auckland, Fred, that’s the tech center on North Island.”

“What about Serge?”

“Oh, he is stuck in Fiji, because to the storm.”

“So, she went out first.”

“Yeah, I told them to book a romantic cruise, but they wanted her right away.”

“And Serge?”

“He texted me the other day, saying he is going to freelance.”

About admin

Fred was born in Montgomery, Alabama and spent his childhood at schools in various parts of the world as the family followed his father's postings. He is a member of the writer's group :"Tuesdays at Two", now a retired government bureaucrat and househusband, living in Northern Virginia with his wife, one cats, a Westie and a stimulating level of chaos.
This entry was posted in Fiction and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *