(Chanteuse Mary goes for a square of Tracy O’Grady’s Philly Phlatbread she is whipping up for the crowd at the food festival of “A Taste of Arlington” on Sunday. Odds are that it is going to rain. Photo Socotra).

Mark Twain famously observed that “There are lies, damned lies, and statistics.”

My statistical chance of winning the PowerBall jackpot tonight is negligible, though I had a good time at Willow deciding how to spend it. I am giving a million to Raf, who went down to the 7-11 to stand in line to get the ticket with ten computer-generated numbers, and a bathroom upgrade to Old Jim and Mary, and something for Tinkerbell’s new daughter Nola- maybe a ward in New Orleans.

I think I may buy the island nation of Grenada, too, or at least that was the plan until John-with-an-H recommended St. Barts instead. I had to borrow a twenty from Old Jim to finance my retirement plan, but that is OK. I will be good for it.

It was a perfectly delightful afternoon, mellow and sunny. Warm enough not enough to sweat, just right for the periodic trips to the elevator to try to keep the knees from locking up at the desk. I listened with interest to the coverage of the myriad of Administration problems in between conference calls.

David Brooks and E,J. Dionne gave us a fairly balanced account of what was significant. I don’t agree with either of them, but I do enjoy the fact that the two face the political aspect of all this with a certain bipartisan equanimity- I mean, of course this is all politics.

They rated the talking points debacle about Benghazi as having no legs as a scandal, but thought that the IRS thing was a pretty big deal. I think there is another scandal in progress, but I forget- it can’t be the Secretary of Health and Human Services violating the Hatch Act, or shaking down Big Medicine for million-dollar donations to fund the implementation of the Affordable Care adventure.

The Hatch Act? That is the one where public officials are not supposed to use their offices for overtly political purposes. Hahaha. But that is what we do here. Old Jim said it best at the bar while we were waiting for a sneak preview of Tracy O’Grady’s special sampler flat-bread she is going to roll out for A Taste of Arlington on Sunday. “No one gives a shit outside the Beltway,” he growled. “They have to get by, and it is not until something directly affects them that they are going to pay any attention.”

“So you are saying that it isn’t until the Health Care thing kicks in this Fall that anyone will give a rat’s butt? Do you suppose that people know our elected idiots just gave us the equivalent of a national ID card with everything about you filed in it?”

“It will just be there before people know it,” he said. “Done deal.” He looked skeptically at the can of Budweiser Raf slid in front of him to replace the brown Long Neck bottle. “Place is going to hell in a hand-basket.”

Tracey herself brought out the flatbread- a sort of Philly take with spicy relish she made herself and onions and a zesty sauce. “I am concerned about the rain they are predicting for Sunday,” she said. “I have 2,000 portions of the Philly Phlatbread to give away, and I don’t want to get stuck with them.”

“I think I am sensing what the special is going to be next week if it rains,” I said, taking a sip of the Happy Hour White. It was good, in both the Chardonnay flavor and whatever the other grapefruity-Spanish thing they were pouring. “Figures, though. A glorious day to be at the office and then a drenched weekend.”

“Statistically, they are calling for a sixty percent chance of rain,” said John-with. “That means there is almost a half chance it won’t be a rainout.”

“That is as optimistic an assessment as anyone could make,” said Chanteuse Mary.

“No shit,” said Jim.

“I believe in the odds,” I said. “It is 100% certain that all this crap is politically motivated. It was politics that drove the talking points, and the story that al-Qaida was on the run, and the Arab Spring was a great idea, and the IRS surprise audits of the conservatives before the election. And all the rest of the shady stuff- propping up Medicare so the seniors wouldn’t realize what was happening to their benefits, and the free phones in Ohio and every other damned trick to ensure that the President got re-elected.”

“Reminds me of CREEP,” said Jim, darkly.

“Nixon’s Committee to Re-Elect the President?” I said. “I haven’t thought about that list of dirty tricks in a while.”

“I was in the Nixon White House. I know about this shit. All politics. That is not relativism, by the way, just because both sides do it. It is just about power, and some people are more ruthless than others in the pursuit of it.”

“Odds are that you are right,” I said. “This bunch seems pretty relentless about it.”

John-with laughed. “If you really believed in the odds, you would have saved yourself twenty bucks on the lottery.”

“That is completely different,” I said primly, looking at the little slip of paper. “This is an investment in Hope and Change.”

“Fools and their money,” growled Jim. “Or in this case, my money.”

“That is the way it works here in Washington,” I said. “You can take that to the bank.”

Copyright 2013 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com