I was playing Texas Hold ‘Em from seat #8. The table was full. At the opposite end of the table in seat #3 was a slender, attractive blonde lady. Next to her in seat #2 was a robust good looking middle-aged man and to his right in seat #1 was a crusty looking, sort of timid old black man with a cane that peered carefully at his cards before he reacted or bet. On her left side in seat #4 was a gray bearded fellow that played rather flamboyantly.

“Did you know” she asked, “that Bill Clinton was from Arkansas?”

Gray beard responded. “Yep. And, so am I.”

“Really. That’s where I’m from.” She sort of gushed. “Did you know they used to have signs up when you came into the state that proclaimed it to be ‘The Birthplace of Bill Clinton’ and that they took the signs down when he got into that mess?”

The old black man responded. “I read that. I’m from Arkansas, too, and that really made me unhappy. We elected him, warts and all, and even if he got into trouble, he is still ours.”

“I’m beginning to feel outnumbered” said the robust guy. “All these Arkansas people around me.”

The blonde sort of ignored him. “Well,” she said. “I’m glad Romney’s running. He’s going to win in a landslide and then maybe the country can get back on track. Can I get another drink?”

“What are you drinking?” the gray beard asked.

She smiled. “It’s called a ‘Leg Spreader’.”

There was a silence at the table. Finally, the robust player reacted. “What’s it got in it?” he asked.

“I don’t know. It just tastes good.”

“You ought to have a couple more of them, then,” he told her. “Do they work?”

“Ha! Ha! Ha!,” she said and turned to the gray beard. “Where bout’s in Arkansas you from?”

“A little town just west of Little Rock. What makes you think Romney’s going to win so easy?”

“He’s the best man. He’s got all that money and he’s spendin’ it like crazy. That’ll get him elected. But, mainly, he’s the best man.”

The game went on for a few minutes. The cocktail waitress brought some drinks. The blonde had something pink to drink. “What do you do over there?” she asked gray beard.

“Nothing much anymore,” he answered. “Sometimes I help out the sheriff if he gets a lot of notices and stuff to serve.”

“Are you a deputy?” she asked.

“Not really,” he responded. “Just help out sometimes.”

“Do you carry a gun, and everything?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve got a weapons permit and can carry it most everywhere.”

Robust man spoke up. “In Nebraska, you couldn’t wear it into a courthouse or any other government buildings.”

“Same way in Arkansas,” he said. He pulled out his wallet and dug through it. “Here’s the permit to own it and here’s the one to carry it concealed.”

The dealer spoke up. “You can’t carry one into the casinos here, either.”

“Right,” said graybeard.

The blonde stirred her drink and then sipped at it. “Somebody ought to use one on some of these politicians.”

“That’d be pretty harsh,” said the robust man.

The old black man stirred. He looked at his cards and then looked at the middle of the table. “I gave Obama $40,000,” he said.

Silence again descended on the table. Suddenly the blonde blurted out “YOU DID WHAT?”

He repeated himself. “I gave Obama $40,000”.

“What in the world did you do that for? Do you mean you just gave him that much money? Why would a person do that?”

“I figured he could use it in the campaign,” said the old man.

The blonde was seething by this time. “You sure you don’t have that gun on you?” she asked gray beard. She drained her drink. She didn’t have a lot of chips left but she grabbed up what she had and stomped off.

“That’s too bad,” said the robust man. “I kind of liked sittin’ next to her.”