for the closest, most prominent positions, so the congressman from Colorado's ninth district simply walked to his receptionist's desk, moved the blotter and the telephone console aside, and sat on top. He smiled gamely, held up both hands several times, and refused to speak. Gradually the cacophony subsided, broken now and then by a strident voice answered by the silent stare of mock surprise on the part of the shocked representative. Finally, it was understood: Congressman Evan Kendrick was not going to open his mouth unless and until he could be heard by everyone. Silence descended.
'Thanks very much,' said Evan. 'I need all the help I can get to figure out what I want to say—before you say what you want to say, which is different because you've got it all figured out.'
'Congressman Kendrick,' shouted an abrasive television journalist, obviously upset by his status in the second row. 'Is it true—'
'Oh, come on, will you?' broke in Evan firmly. 'Give me a break, friend. You're used to this, I'm not.'
'That's not the way you came over on television, sir!' replied the erstwhile anchorman.
'That was one-to-one, as I see it. This is one against the whole Colosseum wanting a lion's dinner. Let me say something first, okay?'
'Of course, sir.'
'I'm glad it wasn't you last week, Stan—I think your name is Stan.'
'It is, Congressman.'
'You would have had my head along with your brandy.'
'You're very kind, sir.'
'No kidding? It is a compliment, isn't it?'
'Yes, Congressman, it is. That's our job.'
'I respect that. I wish to hell you'd do it more often.'
'What?'
'One of the most respected members of my staff,' continued Kendrick quickly, 'explained to me that I should make a statement. That's kind of awesome if you've never been asked to make a statement before—’
'You did run for office, sir,' interrupted another television reporter, very obviously moving her blonde hair into her camera's focus. 'Certainly statements were required then.'
'Not if the incumbent represented our district's version of Planet of the Apes. Check it out, I'll stand by that. Now, may I go on or do I simply go out? I'll be quite honest with you. I really don't give a damn.'
'Go on, sir,' said the gentleman often referred to as Stan-the-man, a broad grin on his telegenic face.
'Okay… My very valued staff member also mentioned that some of you, if not all of you, might be under the impression that I was grandstanding last week. “Grandstanding. ”… As I understand the term it means calling attention to oneself by performing some basically melodramatic act—with or without substance—that rivets the attention of the crowds watching—in the grandstands—on the person performing that act. If that definition is accurate then I must decline the title of grandstander—if it's a word—because I'm not looking for anyone's approval. Again, I really don't care.'
The momentary shock was dispelled by the congressman's palms pressing the air in front of him. 'I'm quite sincere about that, ladies and gentlemen. I don't expect to be around here very long—’
'Do you have a health problem, sir?' shouted a young man from the back of the room.
'Do you want to arm wrestle?… No, I have no such problem that I'm aware of—'
'I was a collegiate boxing champion, sir,' added the youthful reporter in the rear, unable to contain himself amid humorous boos from the crowd. 'Sorry, sir,' he said, embarrassed.
'Don't be, young fella. If I had your talent, I'd probably challenge the head of Pentagon procurements and his counterpart in the Kremlin, and we'd solve everything the old-fashioned way. One challenger from each side and save the battalions. But no, I don't have your talent and I also have no problems of health.'
'Then what did you mean?' asked a respected columnist
