I drove to Wiscasset and Bath on Friday and waved to Ms. Pigette as I passed her on Route 27. I waved again on the way home. She looked pretty cute in her summer outfit, as she clutched a racket, ready to return a serve from anyone who would dare share a pickleball court with her. When I got home, I waited until I sat down with a cold glass of water before I answered the buzzing phone. That conversation began the usual way as she asked why I did not stop and chat.

“What am I, chopped liver?” she asked. “Are you just too snooty to stop and chat with moi?” I apologized profusely, I might add, as I tried to talk her down off her high horse.

“OK, Mr. old news guy,” she said. Give me the good dirt, the inside scoop on the Epstein scandal. When are they going to identify and lock up the big shots for molesting little girls?”

It was clear she, like much of the nation, didn’t want to talk about the Potus/Putin Alaska summit. She didn’t want to chat about the FBI search of John Bolton’s home. She could care less about the White House effort to sanitize the Smithsonian’s take on the institution of slavery, or the president’s sending the National Guard into Washington, D.C.

Today, Ms. P wanted to chat about the wild life of the late Jeffrey Epstein and his girlfriend, Ghislaine Maxwell.

“I love a juicy scandal story. My girlfriends all want to know all the gory details of her doings with big shots on Epstein’s fantasy island.”

If you spent the summer picking blueberries, you might not know Ms. Maxwell is a former British socialite who is doing 20 years after being convicted of a sordid sex trafficking scheme where she procured teenage girls for Epstein and his pals. Epstein died (suicide?) in a New York prison cell awaiting trial.

He once would pal around with big shots like President Donald Trump, former President Bill Clinton, Prince Andrew, Duke of York, and maybe other well-known honchos of the deep state. For months, the rabid MAGA echo chamber, which vilifies the “deep state,” has demanded to see the Epstein files. Mr. Trump and his Attorney General, Pam Bondi, promised to release the Epstein files.

So far, they have danced around that promise. First, they tried to release grand jury testimony. No, said judges who said the government had thousands of pages of other material they could make public. Next, the deputy AG (a former Trump defense lawyer) interviewed Maxwell in a Florida prison. Within days of her interview, she was whisked out of her prison cell into a posh low-security Texas prison camp.

“So, what did she tell the justice department lawyer?” asked Ms. P. “She told them bupkis,” I said.

According to the official transcript, she claimed Trump and Clinton did not fool around with teenage girls, that there is no secret client list, that she really admires Trump, but she seemed to have problems recalling other details.

The White House said her answers had nothing to do with her new prison assignment. And, (surprise), Oh, her lawyers said she wouldn’t mind a presidential pardon.

“A pardon?” said Ms. P. “Is she telling the truth? Wasn’t she once arrested and charged with perjury? Now, smart guy, I want to talk about the other big political news story, not the straight-laced analysis in the NY Times, or left/right wing propaganda on Fox and MSNBC,” she said.

“I watched the latest episodes of South Park on my phone. Now, that is real political commentary. Can you believe they get away with that stuff?” she asked.

“I agree, it is cutting-edge satire,” I replied. “But, so far, it's OK under the First Amendment. We have the freedom to criticize the government. In some countries, this kind of crude, very explicit satire might get you thrown in jail. In Russia, some Putin critics were defenestrated.

“Do you think the White House is doing this nutty stuff to get the public to forget the juicy details of the Epstein/Maxwell scandal?” she asked.

“To be honest, I don’t know, and, frankly, I don’t care,”I said. “The good news we are having some real Maine summer weather,” I said. “The Maine Democrats are excited over a new guy to run against Susan Collins (fat chance), and best of all, the Red Sox found a kid with a great big bat. The bad news is that some leaves seem to be turning. My neighbor said she saw a bobcat in her yard, and it is time to think about putting the porch furniture away, just when it is cool enough to sit outside.”

“You are so full of it,” she said and clicked off the phone.