Part of going to a party is knowing how to eat the food they serve. For normal people this isn’t usually a problem because one of the things most of us learn as children is how to use eating utensils. I’m sure my parents tried their best, but apparently not everything they taught me stuck to my gray matter.
For one thing, Laurie is forever having to remind me to put my fork into my mouth right side up — in the carrying position — rather than turning it over to dump the food into my mouth. I know she is right because doing it my way, some of the food will inevitably escape, especially if it is in any way granular or slimy. I am always washing my shirts.
Which reminds me of a Talmudic joke I once heard. It is Talmudic because supposedly it has a deeper and more universal meaning than the obvious surface meaning. I don’t know what that meaning is. All I know is that this joke is about silverware and it always makes me laugh:
Every Friday for many years a man named Morris visits the same restaurant before he goes to temple. And every Friday he has the same food delivered to his table by the same waiter.
One Friday the waiter brings the soup to Morris as always, but he has not taken two steps away from the table when Morris calls him back. “Try the soup,” Morris says.
“What do you mean?” the waiter asks.
“Try the soup,” Morris suggests more strongly.
“You’ve been coming her for fifteen years. It’s the same soup.”
“Try. The. Soup.”
Disgusted but willing to go along with a crazy customer, the waiter nods. “All right,” he says. “Where’s the spoon?”
“Aha!” Morris cries.
Ya see, Morris can’t just come out and ask for a spoon because that wouldn’t be Talmudic — the story would just be a joke. But being a Talmudic story, we are allowed to ponder on what we learned from it.
Perhaps it will remind me to use my fork right side up.