Tis the season of parties, and that inevitably means a potluck or two.  Say what you will about potlucks, there is a place for them in this economy. Contrary to what the woman in this cartoon thinks, husbands do not a good dish make. Except in certain non-potluck situations.

I am going to The New Yorker’s holiday party tomorrow.  It’s not billed as a potluck (although it could have been, as editor David Remnick is known for his adeptness at balancing a budget). But I am bringing my husband.