A Nincompotpourri of Nincompoopery

We are declining as a society into a bunch of nincompoops. A recent article in The Washington Post documents how supposedly educated and successful people can accomplish a trifecta of nincompoopery such as (1) leaving their lights on; (2) with keys in the car; (3) with the engine running. (Well, "at least the battery won't run down...."). Well, so you say Missy.

Before embarking on my diatribe for today I must give credit where it is due. The idea for this little column was sparked by an article by Gene Weingarten that bears reading. You can find it here.

So, here's the secret poop of the nimh...

My brush with malevolent nincompoopery occurred at the Gump's exclusive Bushwood Country Club & Snobatorium. There, for years, one of the main attractions was the art of making cocktails as practiced by one known only as "Reggie." Famous Gump-wide for his performances at weddings, bat mitzvahs, receptions and parties of all ilk, Reggie was THE bartender you hunted and waited in line to be served by. When the nouveau riche and slightly tipsy MA mom would ask for a "light" vodka and water, Reggie would always smile and say: "Sorry ma'am, I just pour 'em, I don't weigh 'em," as he poured and the glass runneth over with the water of life. When the pleasantly intoxicated captain of industry would ask for "a half Scotch and Water" good ole Reggie would reply: "Sir, I failed fractions" as he handed the chocolate-brown glass back to the patron. Reggie, the world will someday acknowledge, was the reason we have the word "Reggied."



All in all, for years Reggie was the hero of the drinking class at Bushwood. His "fair pours" were legendary and the oil of much conversation. Why, it was once suggested that if Reggie served the leaders of the Middle East at a cocktail party we would have world peace by morning or, at least a real good start for Hangover III. Perhaps a slight exaggeration. The point is that members and guests at Bushwood received a more than fair quantity of their favorite adult beverage at the hands of Reggie. Things were, as some say, ducky. Extremely ducky. Leave well enough alone I say.

Enter the nincompoopery of one of our most brilliant and well-educated medical professionals in the Gump. A person trained at one of the finest medical schools in the country and in whose hands many have entrusted their most vital of organs. This "Dr. Sunshine" (as we will call him) has multiplied buffoonery times nincompoopery to produce a nincompotpourri of nincompoopery. This brilliant example of one of the Gump's finest families thought that because Reggie was so generous in his pours that he, the eminent Dr. Sunshine, was entitled to expect everyone at Bushwood with a bottle of whiskey in their hand to provide the same "fair" service as the Master. Accordingly, this paragon of judgment required another server to pour a drink approximating one poured by Reggie and was "outraged" when he was charged for a "double" (a triple would have been more accurate).

It gets worse.

Not satisfied with berating the innocent wait-staffer who presented a drink poured to exact specifications and/or from a jigger, this mental giant decided to bring the issue to the attention of management i.e. the one some call "the man." As anyone with a modicum of sense would understand, once confronted with the issue regarding the size of drinks the manager of Bushwood had to decree that all drinks be poured uniformly at the mandated 1 1/4 ounce amount with a jigger. Suddenly, the Picasso of the Pour, the Wagner of Vodka was forced to confine his art to the constraints of a precisely engineered amount, much to the dismay of the innocent drinkers who depend so much upon the artistry of Reggie, their bartender, guru and, when necessary, their ride home.

What makes this nincompoopery even more notable is that the perpetrator of this affront to the "League of Justice" (the self-named group of roguish ne'er-do-wells who inhabit the place), had no "bleeping" idea that his complaints to management would result in the opposite effect he intended. Now we all suffer equally, thanks to a Republican who hates socialism. I say man (masquerading as buffoon), unhand my bartender!

Where now can a gentleman of the Gump go to find a friendly, heavy-handed bartender who dispenses wisdom as generously as Jameson? Woe is me. Woe are we.

Perhaps, just perhaps, the new restaurant in the A&P development in No-Clo will provide relief. I suppose I should share that "Roux" will be opening for business June 1 (yes, I have stumbled into something topical). I, of course, have been invited to the pre-opening reception and, if I am able, I promise that one of the LITG regulars will report shortly thereafter (I hope I never become too lazy to tell others what to do). Until then, I shall see you at the Pine Bar on Mondays and wherever Reggie serves without the constraints of "the man."

For now, I must bid you adieu as I drown my sorrows at the loss of a fair pour at Bushwood and contemplate the depths of nincompoopery to which we have, as a people, sunk. Woe are we all. Woe are we all.