My good friend and political pundit extraordinaire Stumpy Wagers finished his drink in one gulp, belched and turned his whiskey glass upside down on top of its coaster.
“So you want my political predictions for 2016,” he said, flickering his fingers in front of the glass like a gypsy clairvoyant. “Prey tell, what questions might you have for the magic crystal, and we’ll see what the future holds.”
We were sitting at the bar in Denny’s Pub on McDonald and Church avenues on a windswept and rainy night having a pre-New Years drink. “Ok,” I replied, playing along. “What do you see happening in the presidential election.”
“The presidential election,” said Stumpy, bending his head down to bar level and staring trance like into the glass. “I see the April New York State primary. I see Hillary Clinton winning in a landslide for the Democrats. But what’s this I see on the Republican side? I see Marco Rubio beating Jeb Bush in a tight race. Then I see a brokered convention, and Paul Ryan emerging as a dark horse candidate.”
“Tsk, tsk,” I said. “You sure that’s what your crystal glass says, Stumpy, and not what’s on your wish list. After all, the last time you gave me a prediction was the 43rd District assembly race when you picked Geoff Davis to win and Diana Richardson to finish last and the exact opposite happened.”
“The crystal glass does not lie,” said Stumpy, flickering his finger’s like flames afire.
“Ok, then how is it looking for local state races?” Iasked.
Stumpy again looked into the glass and started humming along to the song, Black Magic Woman that was playing on the jukebox.
“I see Bed-Stuy’s Vanguard Democratic Club in turmoil. They are agonizing on what to do. They remain loyal to longtime Assemblywoman Anette Robinson, but they also feel it is a time for change and that longtime member and attorney, Tremaine Wright waiting in the wings. They know that a three-way primary with Karen Cherry would probably be in Cherry’s favor.”
“You see all that in your whiskey glass?” I said.
The wind from McDonald Avenue turned the corner like Mack the Knife and rattled the glass of the window with the ‘Go Giants’ neon light in it.
“And I see Brooklyn, in all her pain and glory, moving forward ever and backward never marching to the beat of development. People moving in and people moving out. The old guard and buildings slowing disappearing like ghosts, and a millennial world filling up the old canvas. And I see Mayor de Blasio continuing to grow into his job as mayor as Comptroller Scott Stringer and others continue to look for chinks in his armor to take him on in the 2017 primary.”
“Stop yanking my charger chord,” I demanded. “You be just talking politics, and not doing any predicting at all.”
“Wait, wait,” said Stumpy, staring intently into the glass. “What’s this I see? It’s a man. Not a bad-looking guy. Kind of like your self. He’s wearing glasses like you. What’s this? He’s reaching into his pocket. He’s pulling out a twenty and motioning for the bartender. That he’s buying a round.”
I jerked the Stump Man by the elbow away from his glass. “That’s it. You’re done,” I exclaimed. “You ain’t reading no crystal glass. You’re just plucking my strings for a drink.”
Stumpy Wagers turned his glass right side up again. “Now that you mention it. Christmas gifts went way over budget this year and I am feeling a little bit short. So what do you say? How about buying me a drink? For New Years. Should auld acquaintance be forgot.”
Now say what you want about Stumpy. That he’s a hustler? Maybe. A character? That’s for sure. But in the end, I’ll always bet on his soothsayer abilities because sure enough, I pulled out a twenty from my wallet and ordered us both another round.
And once served, Stumpy Wagers lifted his glass and toasted.
“Here’s to a happy and healthy New Year to you and all your readers!”
