Men’s Club News August 2013

Ah, August. A New Year in the offing; the #$@%! tourists have retreated to the Bay Area, leaving some parking spaces for our biweekly Jason’s luncheon, and once again, it’s time for Men’s Club elections.

Previously, one dared not miss a late summer meeting for fear they would be proposed and unanimously elected to high club office—witness Barry Jenkins, who summers in Florida (that’s another story) and has been selected, in abstentia, Club President the last eight years. Barry has already sent a letter to the club secretary: To wit, and paraphrasing William Tecumseh Sherman: “If nominated I will not run, if elected I will not serve, and if served with a subpoena, I will run.”

But this year, the political winds seem about to shift. Harry, who previously suffered a hernia lugging the lead-lined top secret ballot box to our luncheon, suggested a mail-in vote.

“Very well,” George answered, “but most of us still can’t email, and who is going to check to make sure each voter is registered? How do we know that only official Men’s Club members will be voting?”

“I was thinking of the mail you put a stamp on,” Harry said.

“Don’t be a Luddite,” Bart snapped. “More important, how do we even know who the Club members are?”

Purposeful questions, particular in light of the recent Supreme Court ruling determined to disenfranchise the poor, minorities, the elderly, and the non-mobile.

“We need voter ID’s” someone offered.

“With photos, and maybe fingerprints,” chimed another voice.

“Retinal scans, holograms, and DNA!”

“Whoa, whoa,” Ernie cautioned. “Our bylaws are quite specific on Club membership. If one is physically able to chow down Jason’s food and cough up fifteen smackers for the privilege, one is a member.”

“And this is irregardless of race, religion or creed?” Len wanted to know.

“There’s no such word as irregardless” Darryl told him. “Regardless will do.”

“Regardless,” George enjoined. “I get hung up a bit on the ‘creed’ thing. I don’t want people of just any creed coming to our meetings. And I’m also concerned that some people of Canadian origin might be running for office.”

“Prove it!” Jon shot back.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Ernie interjected. “This is getting out of hand. Let’s proceed with the nominations for Club President.”

“Tom,” someone swiftly offered.

“Tom who?” someone else asked.

“Move we close nominations,” Harry chimed in.

In the end, Barry was renominated and unanimously elected, with the decision made not to let him know about it. After all, while the bylaws of the NTHCMC call for a Presidential election, there is no definition of presidential duties. Moreover, if our President lives out of state most of the year, there’s less mischief he might get into. Ned Ludd was a surprise winner for Vice-President, nudging out Mitt Romney, and that perennial candidate, Mickey Mouse, was elected Secretary-Treasurer. Everyone seemed quite satisfied with the outcome, other than some Mitt Romney supporters, who took the occasion to denounce everything Obama had done, was planning to, and might be thinking about.

In other news, a contingent of Men’s Club firefighters sent to assist in containing the blaze near Yosemite, and headed by Ray and Bart, both with extensive barbequing experience, was turned back in Lee Vining by a pernicious coughing spell.

Meanwhile, the Men’s Club High Holy Days Greeters Group met for their annual pre-rituals orientation session, but could not decide on whether it was appropriate to say ‘Good Yom Tov,’ Gutt Yuntiv,’ or ‘Happy New Year.’ Therefore, synagogue attendees should not be put off if approached by old men who simply nod and smile.