When I eat out at restaurants, I like to get a club sandwich. It's nice to be part of a club. Groucho Marx once quipped, "I would never join any club that would accept me as a member," but I disagree. I would love to be a part of any club. There is something pleasant in that camaraderie, a bond of presumed fraternity which becomes so necessary in a world in which there is so little of the real thing. If I were to be a part of such a club, I would gaze upon my new friends, and I would say, "Friends, let's go to lunch." And then, secure in my new, shared community, I would order a reuben.
Like any sane person, I eat my club sandwich one layer at a time, dealing it off like a deck of cards.
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