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Improvizational Conspiracies
The Campaign That Wasn't
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Four years ago, on New Year’s Day in Saratoga Springs, NY, I met a pair of elderly friends playing guitar in a fire hut around noon. The smell of marijuana mixed hazily alongside the oaken logs in the fireplace.
One had claimed to have met Frank Sinatra. Then again, who hasn’t claimed to have met Frank Sinatra?
A Conspiracy Is Born
Frank swirls the whiskey in his glass. “The Soviet Union is a problem, Jimmy.”
“Indeed, Master.”
“That’s why we have to be first to the moon.”