Saturday, 9:00 PM
Jupiter
Fey, whose degree is in linguistics, says that the picnic tomorrow
isn't really a pot luck. I have no degree, I'm entirely self taught,
but I've been accused of being a pretty cunning linguist myself.
I did a little research in this matter (I looked up "pot luck" in a dictionary)
and it turns out that Fey is technically correct. If it were pot
luck, we'd all grab whatever food was handy, rather than planning what
to bring. She is correct in the same sense that those who hold that
the millennium turns January 1, 2001 are correct, and look at the party
they missed.
