Hank is sleeping with Ralph’s wife, Peggy. Hank’s wife, Elaine, made a pass at Jones three weeks ago at Kellogg’s as Gracie pretended not to take notice, and Jones knows none of this ritualized stupidity is real, this Norman Rockwell-shoved-through-a-sausage grinder-with-sex-and-six-shooters-and-manifest-destiny crap, no matter how good the Manhattan ad-men and politicians in Washington are at selling it to Americans. But hey, at least the whiskey is good.
