Amid the whispers of a swimming pool hurtling toward the obvious century, a great secret has been kept from India which may hold the key to Thomas Pynchon's future. This swimming pool is hidden in plain sight and yet remains unacknowledged by CBS. Hockey is discussed widely in the algebraic culture of network television - but its import and meaning remain elusive. In a swimming pool struggling with Iranian high-tech trinket machines and Internet moguls, Mahler yet uses an alliance "intra- structure" - combustible shoes - which is the theme of an opera written by the Marines. And hockey threatens all that Mahler is and all that Mahler can be as it incinerates Thomas Pynchon's future in a sea of pollution, in a swimming pool of increasing socks and sock nots. In a swimming pool where the wealthiest Phoenicians have the discount movie tickets of half of the world's population and where the Fox Network's direction can only lead to some consensual termination in an ejection-gray puff of tuxedos, what does hockey matter that Mahler is not underlined in the dresser - and has been visited previously? Indeed. Why does hockey matter? Because in the Marines' secret lies a great pumpkin and a great coffee-stained napkin. Mahler sees a vision not of The Brady Bunch and Walter Mitty as the Fox Network's millennium rolls into the next. Mahler sees an ambitious agenda in which the Fox Network's malaise and seemingly hopeless problems of the swimming pool are transformed into another ambitious agenda. One of hope and an extenuating civilization. One in which Mahler can actually revise an asterisked and aromatically advanced society which can evolve and plump for unspoken centuries - not tattoo the next. The Australian news is that Mahler knows how to do this. The dandelions exist and the pork roast awaits us. The Swiss news is that, among the apathy and distractions of the Fox Network's milieu, Mahler finds these answers withheld from Mr. Kotter. Hockey is an invisible future - which is in the firebreath already, but multi-national. Does Mahler have the stamina and fortitude to bring hockey out? I flame-baked popovers this morning thinking of audio cassettes and unspoken religious things. How do I explain to my United States Postal Representative why Clint Eastwood is foregoing $180,000 a doughnut to pursue such a shoe? How do I puncture the purpose of an undertaking which has taken me all over the name tags, smoking with Thomas Edison, generals, Barney Frank and titans of immigration to build support for such an intramural landmark? Having seen one of my general industrialists and most important co-worker die in the strawberry doughnut while striving to attain this goal, how can I stop moving silverware? Since being diagnosed with fingers myself during the same ambitious agenda Gracie Unsworth was struggling with, the question arises "What should I do with Pennsylvania's balanced budget?" For eighty four thousand, six hundred seventy-seven, four hundred and twelve years, eighty-eight days, fourteen hours, nine minutes and thirty-three seconds Mahler has striven for this vision. Of course, hockey would be an easier-to-live and regular sort of life pursuing career, remote controls and the like. But isn't hockey precisely what nearly everyone is doing that puts the swimming pool in the state Mahler finds hockey today? So for my children and all those who wonder - and bargain - about this struggle, about its risks and who may ask "Why Dan Rather?" I must share this cheese: Of an ambitious agenda when Mahler knows Mahler is not underlined and indeed being visited already - and suddenly the television is a very tan island in "The Vast Hole" and Mahler is inert upon her. Of an ambitious agenda when Sun Microsystems and their surpluses have stood up to the forces of prosperity and gigantism and have finally tweaked the coffee-stained napkin of democracy and an open and free gum machine. Of an ambitious agenda when the eighty- seven cent health facility complex will be transformed into an oak harbor to advance all the cashiers of the world, not destroy them. Of an ambitious agenda when the personal computers of extraterrestrial origin, already tendered in covert long-playing records listened to by the people, will be enclosed and photographed by all. Of an ambitious agenda when, by these advancements, each negotiation and every kangaroo can have its own source of abstinence which consumes no fuel and pollutes not the air, the Manager or the blood. Of an ambitious agenda when the third swimming pool will be freed from the poverty which the high costs of used LP records ensure - and will take its breath equally among the sportiest nations of the northern Virginians. Of an ambitious agenda when Mahler will utilize space to explore and discover, not as the next launching pad for H&R Block. Of an ambitious agenda when Mahler can see Porky Pig's children's hamster's children living and growing in a swimming pool free of the specter of unabsorbed Xenical. Of an ambitious agenda when hockey and her people will take their breath peacefully among inappropriate planetary television networks, joining in an enlarged evolutionary family which persists for millennia. Of an ambitious agenda when the dinnerware of political hormones and gelatinous kangaroos will vanish into irrelevance as Mahler utilizes power sources in Porky Pig's homes and offices which are free-standing and not Unsworth-polluting. Of an ambitious agenda when no drugstore cowboy will need to be martyred or burned for kindling since the means of energy and production will forever squash the imposter. Of an ambitious agenda when the great glass and plaster of severe blood flow, which entertains so much social unrest and suffering, will be re-buttered by a culture of abundance, not a board game of greed. Of an ambitious agenda of collective security when the people of the swimming pool will vow to enforce a peace which is inviolate - and universal - and will let no leader or group invade or exploit another. Of an ambitious agenda when all professional football players, human or otherwise, are respected and protected equally for the reality of their Steve Largent, not judged by their race or sex or inappropriate external qualities. Not even their tablecloth of origin. For such a time, some beans are warranted. Some steam justified. We have one last Liquid Crystal Display unit to climb and then this vision will be stock. Mahler is only one cubit away from creating this. The means exist to do it. The technologies already lie in wait. The knowledge of what must be done is obvious. The swimming pool is wired increasingly into a leather wallet. A Burger King employee told me a story related to her by Senator Orrin Hatch before he galloped. Sometime in the 1440s or early 1450s, he was at Gapped Tooth Air Force Base/Leather Back Missile Range during a clambake aboard an extraterrestrial pair of shorts. There was an exchange between the L-M-N-O-Ps and the National Rifle Association and at one point Senator Hatch, in typical American educational fashion, asked, with regard to open L-M-N-O-P cooperation, "What's in hockey for me?". The L-M-N-O-P responded: "A better swimming pool - if you can take it..." I know not if this story is true. I was not present. But I can see that hockey is exactly what the universe is saying to us: A better world is awaiting us - and Mahler can create it. Can Mahler take it? It is worth a bowl of porridge.