I was Christmas shopping in the local haberdashery. A couple of guys standing around the cash register, the deer slayer and the potbelly. The deer slayer in Covid mask and MAGA hat – old family friend, aging bodybuilder, committed hunter, accomplished in the art of land surveying – asked me, “What do you think of this election? Do you think it was rigged?”

I was happy to expound in a friendly setting. “I worked the election, as you know. It was clean. As far as I can see, it was clean. At the start, our machines were gummy but we got them oiled. People were standing in line but they were patient. Everyone got to vote.”

“But what about all these affidavits? The video of the suitcases under the desk?” they both asked.

“Well,” I said, “There are two types of affidavits in discussion here. One are affidavit ballots which are paper ballots people vote with when they are not in the election roll book, or for other reasons. They are reviewed and counted after the election. Then there’s the sworn affidavits Rudy is touting, pages and pages, claiming various voting irregularities around the country. I can sign a sworn affidavit right now that some Trump people wore Trump hats and sweatshirts into the polling station. I had to ask them to cover up the electioneering paraphernalia. Some objected strongly. I nearly called the police on one. Thankfully, his father was with him and talked reason. It is illegal to have campaign material with 100 feet of an election site. Now, I can sign an affidavit to that effect. But I mean really, are events like that enough to overturn an election? No. And how many of those affidavits Giuliani glorified are stories just like that?”

“I don’t know. There’s too many questions,” they both said almost in unison.

“Look,” I said, “Bill Barr, big Trump guy, Attorney General, said the election showed no evidence of major fraud. The head of FBI said they saw nothing on a scale that would overturn the results. There’s always a little something. The states have certified the electoral counts.”

“10,000 dead people voting!” the haberdasher said adjusting his mask and then his belt.

“Nonsense!” I said, “The Secretary of the State of Georgia said they found two dead people voting and it looks like they both went for Trump.”

“What about the boxes of votes under the table?”

“That story was completely debunked within a couple days. Why do you think Fox stopped running the tape?”

“I don’t know. It’s just not right. Nobody was in Biden’s crowds. Trump had big crowds.” My interlocutors nodded in agreement with each other.

“Seven million more votes should be enough to win,” I interjected, hopefully.

“Who has permission to hunt on your hill?” asked the deer slayer changing the topic.

“A couple guys,” I said, “Bow and black powder only. Too many houses around.”

“And me!” said the deer slayer, laying claims. “Your father said I could hunt there until I died,” he added with territorial imperative.

I smiled. My father, dead ten years. He probably did say something like that. A poacher. At least he is good hunter, safe shots, knows the land. Eats the kill.

“I got mine. Went up the hill in back of the little house your father built in 1950. Through the pines, along the fence line, to that little depression…”

“It’s like a fawn nursery in that hidden field,” I said.

“Eight pointer,” he countered. “I saw your other hunter across the field in the chair behind the round hay bales under the big sycamore.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t shoot each other,” I said. “He was a Marine.”

Turning to business, “Will these socks fit my wife?” I asked the haberdasher, pointing to a nice red pair hanging on the upper spin rack.

“It’s Christmas and you are buying your wife socks?” asked the deer slayer.

“Not really. It’s her birthday present too,” I countered.

“Having good socks is important,” observed the deer slayer, “But I don’t know, Richie. I don’t know…”

“What do you get the girl that’s got everything?” I asked good-naturedly.

Post Script: This is going to be a very interesting week in American history. The President’s latest “perfect phone call” has lit up the wires. By the time you read this column, the two Georgia run-off elections for Senate will be in the books. Who will control the Senate? On January 6th, some Republicans in the House and Senate are willing to challenge the electoral count from individual states; the Proud Boys will be marching in Washington asking for the overturn of the election; the Metro police are posting notifications that DC is a gun free zone, permits or not; there are rumors guns will be brought into the city regardless; the President tweets there is going to be a “wild” rally and that DC will have a “Big Protest Rally”; the military confirms they have nothing to do with elections; and, more rumors have it the President will fly to Scotland the day before the Inauguration to avoid prosecution and plan his next campaign. It can’t get much more wild than that. Before Trump took office in 2017, I wrote he learned everything he knew about politics and human interaction from watching Joan Rivers on the Johnny Carson Show and that his time in office “is going to be hilarious, but it isn’t going to be funny.” I think that prediction is holding true right to the end. Welcome to 2021.