My Library

I tried to find out when the ASPR had last given a reception. No one seemed to know, and so if one had been given it was way back in the history of the venerable Society. The prospect of the reception terrified me, frankly put. I felt that no one would come -because the refusal to publish the papers directly implied that someone had cheated -specifically myself. But there was no getting out of it. And so I tried to resolve my second problem -- by now I was so FAT, FAT, FAT I couldn't fit into any nice United Nations suits, of which I had an even dozen. During the week before the reception I had drank only liquid protein in an effort to reduce. This effort was futile. I had no money to buy a new suit. So in the end I selected a nice Nehru jacket, a style which had briefly been fashionable about 1969. I couldn't get it buttoned, of course, but it hid some of my accumulating belly. I chose a big white tie which filled in the unbuttoned space and somewhat hid my bulging belly. While dressing, I felt I was getting ready to volunteer for the guillotine. Well, what the hell. While slowly and reluctantly squeezing into my clothes, I smoked ten cigars and drank five vodka and sodas. And so I arrived at the dreaded reception a half hour late. On the street, I didn't see anyone else going into the venerable Society, and so I expected the worst.