Albert had just finished the same article, around the same time, as Chet. A similar discussion ensued between Albert and his wife,

Carla.  But this marital conversation - between two opposing political camps, had neither loud nor inappropriate words spoken.  Carla simply stated, "the man..."  She, choosing her words, continued "he's...well, crass."  She then slowly moved her hand.  Albert, like several billion other people, who live peacefully - or even reasonably so - took the hint.  Since the walls might, at the moment, have tiny electronic eyes and ears, whatever Carla wanted to tell him, was not the routine stuff that marrieds could discuss back and forth, over cake and coffee.  Carla stood up from her normal place - the sofa cushion nearest the end table, which they both shared - and sauntered toward the easy chair, in which Albert was seated.  She cocked her head toward the storm room, which had a sizsble utility closet; she began unbuttoning the top button of her blouse.  Down came the easy chair's footstool.  He was out in a shot.

The closet door shut behind them.  Albert made a brief statement - which, well, is between a husband and his wife.  "Albert, I'm serious..." "So am I..."  he then took his hands off the forth button.  Carla had something, besides ... which could be tabled for a few moments.  His wife had something on her mind, and the thinking part of him, wanted to hear.  She leaned in to whisper, "Please, don't repeat this, but I heard from a VERY reliable source, how crass...YES, there had been several individuals in the room ... when THAT mug-face said to Martha - poor thing - we'll have to just work that off ... oh" Carla added, "he then pinched her on the backside."

"So?"  

"SO?"  Carla's jaw dropped.  "Come on, Albert..."

"Okay!" He replied, with a wink.

"No, seriously, is THAT the sort of man we need for a president?"

"Okay!"  Albert took Carla in his arms; they began kissing - passionately.

Unbeknownst to the closeted couple, a housefly, with electronic innards, had flown in under one of a number of places.  Its microdrive had picked up enough of the private conversation - but the words spoken, by either human, were minor.  The little bug had eavesdropped for another purpose.  It called for a nearby drone - which was on its way back from zoning in upon a neighbor's lap top - left open, while he or she had been on the can.  The message from the closet drone, basically, had read:  Bring popcorn, movie about to start.

The second arrived, in time to collect some mighty useful footage - the educator, who promoted certain leftist causes ... well, evidently, not so, in her private life.  The audio ... priceless.