"Listen," I say to Alan Adler, who's wrestling with the Special...a Cajun style pork chop, with spiced rice.   The pork chop's just a bit overdone.    When a pork chop's overdone, you can take a saw and shape it into something that can be used as a hockey puck.   "If you had two questions that you had the opportunity to ask of the presidential candidates, what would they be?"
Alan clears his throat.   "Does Bill ask you to perform the same acts that he asked of Monica Lewinsky?"
"No, no, no.   I mean, seriously."
"I am serious."   Alan's got a slightly crooked smile.   "The answer would be a very telling one."
"A real question."
Alan looks ahead, and pushes his plate away.   "I can think of one.   'How do your potential policies address the issue of a better life for all of our children?'"
"A better quality of life, a safer quality of life?"
"Yes."
"Sounds kind of workaday, you know?"
Alan laughs.   "You got a better one?"
"Yes."
"I'm all ears."
I put my spoon into the bowl of Shepard's Pie that sits in front of me.   "Okay.   One.   Do you have a plan to devise a foreign policy for Pakistan that actually works, instead of continuing the tragic comedy that's been going on now for fifty years, one that keeps the country from exploding like a time bomb, and two, how do you propose to clean up the mess made by this present administration that's sullied the past eight years?"
Alan smiles.   "Well, you know Tim Russert ain't asking questions like that."
"Those are valid, important questions."
"Yes, they are."
"Meanwhile, two weeks from now, Karachi could be in flames, Musharraf could be overthrown, and militants will be ready to nuke New Delhi, and Bush'll find a way to pin the blame on Bill Clinton."
Dawn comes back down our way.   "How you guys doing?"
"George is politicking me again."
"Shame on you, George."
"Shame on me, Dawn."
"What are we gonna do with you?"
"Oh, I don't know."   I won't be drawn into THIS trap.   After all, this is a family establishment.
"Speaking of tragic comedies, you hear about Romney?", Alan asks.
Romney.   You know, Mitt Romney looks too much like the character Steve Corell plays on 'The Office'.   I mean, that alone's a good reason to avoid him, isn't it?   "No.  What about him?"
"He's gonna stake all on Michigan.   He's throwing everything into Michigan."
"His father was the Governor of Michigan," I say.
"He also ran for president, too."
"Well, if he thinks he's getting that kind of vote, he might as well think twice.   Everyone who voted for his father's either dead, or moved down to Florida."
Alan chuckles.   Dawn grimaces.
"Other than that, what's so special about Michigan?"
Alan sniffs.   "He couldn't win in New Hampshire.   The neighboring state.   I'd bet McCain takes Michigan."
Dawn heads back down the counter.   "That could happen."
"Kerry endorsed Obama today, and NOT Edwards!"   Alan seemed surprised.
"Yeah, I love that!   I'm sorry I wasn't a fly on the wall for all of that animosity!"
"I'm surprised that he didn't go for Hillary.   I always thought those two got along famously."
Dawn came back.   "You done with this, Alan?"
"Yep.   The pork chops were kind of...well...yucky."
"Yucky?"
"They were way overdone.   Like Carmelo drove down to Miami Beach while they were on the grill."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Aw, no big deal."
"I could've smacked Carmelo with it, it would've made him stop hitting up on the Korean girl down the end, and he'd have made you better pork chops."
"Look, who is that girl, anyway?" I ask.   "Don Don's struck out more with her than Mike Schmidt at the Vet."
"She's a personal trainer at that spa around the corner.   She thinks Donald's funny, but he's starting to get annoying.   She's engaged."
The crowd's noise is muted tonight.   The satellite feed's not playing music.   Instead, it's playing Flyers vs. Rangers up at the Garden.   Who the hockey fan here is, I don't know, but it's strange not hearing the music.   "I have an idea," I say.
"What?"   Dawn cleans her eyeglasses.
"You can take Alan's pork chops, and give them to her, and when Don Don comes in, she can smack him with them.   Guarantee he'll never bother her again."
Alan smiles.   "That's your talent, you know.   Trouble shooting."