It's bad enough to be a Something New, but to be a Lonely Something New? O the misery. "Let Ruth find the girl of your dreams. Have no fear - we have her - and she is registered in our files, just waiting for you." Good thing they added that last part, or it would sound as if they had thousands of women chloroformed in plastic tubes, awaiting activation.

Lest you feel bad about your single state, well, you should: NO MAN IS ANY GOOD WITHOUT A WOMAN. So get your Jill, Jack. Here's a pail. The well's up the hill.


Ruth is playing Debutante Volleyball, it seems. “I’ve got it! Goshers, I know I’ve got it!” The Questionnaire is quite thorough:

Does it annoy you to be interrupted when talking? Translation: we got some that won’t shut up. They’re going to have to be buried 12 feet deep, because they’ll still be yakking after they’re dead, and it’ll freak out the groundskeepers.

Are you happy most of the time? Say no, and you’ll either get Doris Downer, who will sit around smoking cigarettes and reading poetry by beatnik chicks, or we’ll send you Jar Jar Twinks. She likes to start every day with jumping jacks. She draws daisies on everything. Say yes, and you’ll get one or the other.

Do you like pets? They could be a little more specific. Are you troubled by an abundance of reptiles? Do you like dogs but want to twist the heads off the little yippy ones? If you disocovered that 12 of her 36 cats are named after old boyfriends, and each was home-neutered, how would you feel?

Do you like city life? Translation: Can you bear to be surrounded by a sea of maddeningly indifferent sinners without practicing the “you talkin’ to me?” speech in the mirror six times a day?

Do you like the country? Because if you say yes, we’re sending you one who hikes, and the moment you sit down, short of breath, and fire up a Winston, you’ve lost her.

Have you ever been in love? We hate to be picky, but if you say “yes” we prefer that you actually knew the woman. Sitting in your easy chair in front of the TV with your pants off, waiting for the commercial with the dancing Old Gold box does not count as being “in love.”

Do you have happy memories off a previous love? Well, if you count not being charged with throwing acid at her, I guess.

Send it all to the Help Company Club! Not to be confused with the Help Club Company.