Let's Do Lunch

Hello World,

M'aidez! M'aidez! Yes, that old French expression meaning "Help me!" that American flyers adapted as "Mayday!" before ditching out of their airplanes, reminds us that May Day is indeed right around the corner. In fact, it's on Monday, believe that or don't, so let's all be on the lookout for throngs of happy Russians reveling in Red Square for the occasion, da?

Speaking of outmoded technology (oh, hit that easy target!) I just received a fashion catalog that has a model on the cover holding what appears to be a portable phone circa 1990, which is about the size of a tissue box, and is so bulky that the poor woman has to hold it with both hands. I found that a curious low-tech anachronism to put on the cover for whatever reason. It might have been in that same catalog that I came across a textbook illustration of what is wrong with the language nowadays. I think we could all agree that a dress is an article of women's apparel that begins at the neckline and continues all the way to the hemline, say, around the knees. This is what makes it distinctive from a sweater, blouse or skirt, for instance, because it keeps together and doesn't dis-assemble into separate sections. Then they decided that anything goes, and started calling any old thing a dress, whether it fit this description or not. Now it has finally come full circle, so to speak, and reached the point where they actually had to specify that this particular outfit was a "one-piece dress." Of course, they went on to further describe this one-piece wonder as an "ensemble," which would seem to fly in the face of the meaning of the term, leaving the language purists among us with nothing to do but shake our heads and groan.

Speaking of the deterioration of the language, I noticed that I had some incoming email with the subject line of "Personal Request." Now, this particular message was from the pastor of my church, and since I'm the treasurer of the church, I made sure to open it right away, since based on the subject line, I thought it might be a request for some financial information, an advance on his salary, or clarification of some expenditure. It turned out instead to be a prayer request sent to myself and 50 other people, and here I may differ from the rest of humanity, but my feeling is that once you send something to 50 people, by its very nature, it is no longer "personal."

While we're having Fun With Language, Bill would like to share with us some subject lines from his incoming email --

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orthodontist Luxury look alike chronometers anywhere! axisymmetric
tuan cordwell - fictive int'l authorized pharmaceutical, winkle
Oscar Collier - viaduct message from Oscar Collier Thu 03/30 2KB Andres Mccullough - Re: bolshevism message from Andres Mccullough Thu 03/30 1KB Aubrey Prater - whereof message from Aubrey Prater Thu 03/30 1KB Marquis Heller - Hey message from Marquis Heller
Mattie Neal lubricate message from Mattie Neal Sat 03/25 1KB Ruth Bailey marshal message from Ruth Bailey Sat 03/25 1KB Emile Caron recalcitrant message from Emile Caron Sat 03/25 2KB Jami Gilmore surreal message from Jami Gilmore Sat 03/25 1KB Lorrie Cook bunny message from Lorrie Cook Fri 03/24 1KB Jeanette Mercado since message from Jeanette Mercado Fri 03/24 1KB Grover Suggs Sweet teen panties message from Grover Suggs Fri 03/24 1KB Kathleen Cortez kalmia message from Kathleen Cortez Fri 03/24 1KB Celina Dickey furry message from Celina Dickey
Rodney Salazar polemic demeaning Tue 03/21 27KB Monty Stokes adamantly paucity Tue 03/21 27KB Leon Bunch kodachrome message from Leon Bunch Tue 03/21 1KB Josiah Temple afternoon message from Josiah Temple Tue 03/21 1KB Janie Tatum Panty peek Panties message from Janie Tatum Tue 03/21 1KB Deanne Watkins shrapnel message from Deanne Watkins Tue 03/21 1KB Maggie Dennis rawboned message from Maggie Dennis Tue 03/21 1KB
[I suppose I'd go for the panty message over the shrapnel, if I were forced to choose!]
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Well, I don't see any way to improve upon that, try as I might.

Wednesday of this week found many of us enjoying the New Rochelle Chamber of Commerce's Secretary Day luncheon, which they have every year at a local country club with dignitaries and boring speeches. Someone must have complained last year that the program ran too long, so this year they wouldn't let them make any speeches, except the Mayor. We actually have a new Mayor, even though it wasn't time to elect one, because our current Mayor had been elected to a County post in mid-term, so we were able to throw the rascal out ... er, I mean, we celebrated his achieving an even greater opportunity for public service away from our fair city. Anyway, after he left, the City Council appointed someone else to fill out the remainder of his term, and he seems like a nice and earnest young man. I already like him, because he came to address our neighborhood association, where I don't mind saying, the local government has been pretty unpopular lately, and began his comments asking for a show of hands on this inquiry:

Do you feel that in New Rochelle, at the moment,
a) Everything is going great;
b) We are headed in the right direction, but we still have major issues to resolve;
c) We've had a couple of successes but are headed in the wrong direction; or
d) We're doomed.

He didn't try that gambit at the luncheon, I suppose, because the City Hall contingent is one of the larger participants in the event, and the reception might have been a bit cooler than the general public. But in any case, he made some very nice remarks about secretaries, and got a nice round of applause for his efforts. Moving on to the important part of the program, they started calling out names for winners of the raffle prizes, for which they sell chances as a fund-raiser to award scholarships to worthy local organizations. I would always buy tickets to support these causes, even though I would never win anything. Then one year, it occurred to me that one of the people in our Mail Room is about the luckiest person I have ever heard of, who routinely wins at slot machines, scratch-off lottery games or Bingo at church, with a consistency that is uncanny. I figured that if I wrote her name on the tickets, she would probably win, and sure enough, that was exactly what happened, and it even rubbed off on another person from a different department, so that they both won some nice prizes. I continued to do that, and her record at winning was a refreshing change from my consistency at losing.

This year, with the return to work by our injured co-worker, I decided to also write her name on some tickets, even though she is unquestionably the most unlucky person I have ever met in my entire life. She couldn't catch a stroke of good luck if she was infected with a good luck virus during good luck season and standing in a vat full of good luck germs. Her slot machine pays off after she moves to another one, the person next to her wins the door prize, she can have three Aces and easily lose to someone with four Deuces, as impossible that might be for normal people. For someone who is so unlucky, she's very superstitious, and as an example, refuses to pick up stray coins that are face-down, because she claims it is bad luck. I point out to her with unassailable logic that she is already as unlucky as any one person could get, and that these upside-down coins couldn't possibly make her any unluckier, but she won't hear of it. So you can imagine my surprise when one of the first raffle prizes of the day was announced with her name, being a gift certificate for Applebee's restaurant, and I was so stunned at this improbable turn of events that I nearly forgot to stand up and claim it. Bill also asked me to buy some tickets for him, and he's never been a particularly lucky person either, but the Mail Room luck wave must have rubbed off on him as well, because he won a mug and T-shirt, much to my further surprise. This was about all the good luck the Mail Room effect could muster at one time, and retired in exhaustion after that, so that this was one of the only years that the original lucky person didn't win anything at the luncheon. I mean, there's only just so much that luck can do, and I ought to know.