Middle-Wing Conspiracy (MWC) is a fact-based essay on current events. Issue 5 is MWC’s first-ever Guide to Etiquette, also known as the "It Turns Out the Thing Not to Say Is..." issue. Previous issues are available at http://geocities.datacellar.net/Athens/Cyprus/8962/mwc.html.

In Issue 5, I’m abandoning the first person plural format, on account of I was rereading some issues from over the last year, and I decided the format lacked the panache that I had hoped it would have, where by "panache" I mean a "certain quality of not being stupid." Also, my plan of blaming any libelous passages on members of the crack staff by claiming that "we" did not refer to "me" seemed, beings as that I’ve never hired any crack staff, to lack even more panache.

The first useful tip on etiquette takes us to the Jewel brand grocery store. I was at the Jewel several weeks ago, shortly after the Columbine High School shootings, where I purchased some Creamette-brand pasta and some Lite beer from Miller in a shameless attempt to develop product placement revenues for MWC. (I mean I purchased that great-tasting, less-filling beer at the Jewel, not at the shootings.)

It was one of my convenient 9-per-week trips through the 10-Items-Or-Less line, and I was behind a woman who was only exceeding the limit by approximately 37 items. (Note to anyone employed by, say, the Kroger corporation: I patronize Jewel only because of the dearth of Kroger stores in the area, and if you think I’m confusing the word "patronize" with "am a patron of," then you haven’t seen me request help at the deli counter.)

At first I was irritated by the woman’s flouting of the rules, but soon I was entertained by the antics of her four-year-old son. The boy had the cutest little baseball cap, looking just like he was ready to star in a movie with Adam Sandler, and he also had a toy gun. This toy gun brought more pleasure to this boy than I have ever seen any other toy bring to bring to any other child. He was wheeling it around and pointing it at everyone in the vicinity, and the trigger on this gun must have given an extremely satisfying click, because every time he pulled it, there was a squeal of joy the likes of which I haven’t heard since...well that’s another type of column.

So I did what I always do in those situations, which is to dive behind another customer, in case it’s a real gun, while repeatedly shrieking the phrase, "[Extremely bad word with the final ‘g’ replaced by an apostrophe] Charlton Heston!"

Then I got up, and It Turns Out the Thing Not to Say to the mother in such a situation is, "Now there’s a boy who’s ready for high school." The mother inexplicably turned on me instead of on the NRA, so I didn’t know what to say, but if you ever find yourselves in that situation, I can tell you that the witty comeback, "Look, why don’t you just give the cashier the food stamps and move on" is not the pacifying comment it seems to be.

For my next useful tip on etiquette, we go to beautiful downtown Muncie, Indiana. I grew up in a medium-sized Midwestern college town and they are perfectly lovely places to be. So whenever I go to one, if I break out in a cold sweat and my chest constricts, well, that’s my own problem out which to work. I arrived in Muncie on a Sunday evening and decided to drive around to orient (or, as we say back home, "orientate") myself. Twelve minutes later, I had seen the entire town, including all three McDonald’s restaurants, two of which I patronized.

On my way back to the hotel, I turned right after stopping at a red light. Shortly thereafter, I was pulled over by one of Muncie’s finest (Motto: Upholding the Law in a Town with More Stoplights than People). When the officer pointed out that turning on red was not allowed, It Turns Out the Thing Not to Say was, "But, we’re in Indiana, for [messiah of a major religion]’s sake." It also turns out that the thing not to say by way of further explanation was, "I was just trying to orient myself, if you know what I mean," because that could lead to unnecessary confusion: "Son, if you’re talking about one of those Oriental massage parlors, you better turn around and head back down to Indianapolis. We don’t tolerate that nonsense in these parts." "I’m sorry sir, I meant ‘orientate.’" "Oh. Okay."

For my final useful tip on etiquette, we head to the local movie theatre. I’m sure that on occasion, all of you arrive at the theatre early, especially on opening weekend, when crowds are larger. This can give you time to patronize the snack bar, where you can be waited on by Max, who is so good at his job that he can process your entire order without uttering a single word. You also usually have time before the show starts to look around the auditorium and observe humans in the wild. Doing so will likely make you want to head back home and bar the door, but seeing as that you’re out about $35 at this point, you’ll probably stay for the movie anyway.

On one such recent occasion, I happened to be seated near a couple who were acting more like they were in a Stanley Kubrick movie rather than attending a showing of a Stanley Kubrick movie. And there weren’t even any computer-added figures obscuring the view so as to lower the MPAA rating, if you catch my drift. In that situation, It Turns Out the Thing Not to Say is, "Hey there, Billy Idol, can I get some of that action?" Note that this is the thing not to say even if the woman does look like Billy Idol. Also note that this may be even more the thing not to say if you have to lean across your date to say it, although I have only several dozen unreturned phone calls to corroborate this theory.

Fortunately, the Guide to Etiquette has a happy ending, because I'm here to report that you can usually retain most of your personal limbs if you take the full-of-panache MWC safety tip of orientating yourself right out the emergency exit.