Buck on Phil's Dorky Dance

Buck, my cantankerous friend and sometimes golfing partner, has been experiencing some health problems over the last two years. I attribute his ill health to the 2016 election of Donald Trump. Buck, a longtime registered Republican, was shocked when the GOP nominated Trump as their presidential candidate, and voted for a third party candidate, and like many was amazed Trump won the election.

He and I no longer meet for our weekly breakfast at Nick's Diner. These days, when we periodically get together, we meet later in the day at Havana Haven, a cigar lounge that features a humidor of quality cigars, a bar with a variety of  tasty scotch, comfortable leather lounge chairs, and few large screen TVs usually featuring the Golf Channel with the sound muted. (For those of you worried about second hand smoke, Havana Haven has an elaborate ventilation system.)

Last week, after we each had fired up a Rocky Patel, the bartender, Maria, came to take our drink order. Of course, Buck is quick to respond, "I'll have a double of Glenfiddich, single malt, 12 year on the rocks. And my manservervant here will have soda as he has to drive my Rolls for me."

Maria looked my way and I said, "Don't mind my grandfather; he has an undiagnosed brain disorder. I would like a double shot of Delmore single malt, straight. And the old guy is paying."

As she walked away, Maria muttered under her breath but loud enough for us to hear, "And I could have gone to the beach today, but I'm stuck in this nursing home, medicating retired clowns."

The Golf Channel was showing video of Phil Michelson dancing in his signature long sleeved shirt, presumably a commercial for something. Buck could not resist, "And Maria thinks we are clowns?. If you can't dance, don't do it in public, and definitely not on TV. If he has do do it, he should go to the basement and close the door."
"Well," I offered, "he probably made more money in that minute than you and I made in our best years."

"But we still have our pride," as he sent a large puff of smoke ceilingward.

"And your pride is paying for these drinks. Thanks."

"Whatever, Phil demonstrated his lack of pride at the US Open when he ran after a putt and hit it while still moving. Who would do that?"

"A very wealthy pro golfer wearing a long sleeved  business shirt."

For some time, we enjoyed our cigars and scotch in silence. Up to this point we had avoided politics, but I knew Buck was bound to bring it up. "What," he asked, "do Stormy Daniels and American farmers have in common?" 

"They are independent, hard-working entrepreneurs," I offered.

"Wrongo, bongo! They both got screwed by Trump and were paid to keep quiet."

Why did I not see that coming?