I asked, once I had told him my name and announced myself as being to the right of Attila the Hun, “Aren’t you union guys happy now that your candidate won?”
“Being a nigger commie is bad enough, but he’s a stupid nigger communist! He couldn’t even get the oath of office right,” stated Harvey with angry authority.
Harvey eyes the poker tables. The one nearest the bar is running hot. “He didn’t need our Union votes to get elected, now did he? George Soros bankrolled ACORN and they supplied all he needed. In all future elections ACORN, or something like it, will be funded by the Feds.”
I look around the casino. The noise level is the usual high and no one save me has heard Harvey’s remark about Obama. “Hey, Harvey that’s dangerous talk! You can go to prison for up to five years if someone reports you to the Secret Service. It happened to a guy I know very well except he was talking about Clinton.”
Harvey kicks back his third or fourth shot in little over an hour chased by beer. He is entering the stage of the dangerous drunk looking for a fight. I wonder if he has a gun concealed on his person. They say the only worse thing than a drunk driving a car is a drunk with a gun. He looks around the casino again with red eyed rage and seemed to be willing that someone disagree with him.
I try to change the subject.