So Jill Abbott couldn’t “pinpoint” to point as to why it was that sooooooo many – common folk and yups alike – decided to take a pass on her invitation to “Dine in Mr. du Pont’s freakin’ garden.  Really, Jill.  It eludes you eh?  Well let me take a ‘lil stab at it if ya don’t mind.

You and Mr. “Starchy pants” Roselle have totally gutted and compromised the best Get together/cocktail party/ most anticipated spring event in one pompous and Pecksniffian fell swoop.  Your palpable snobbery – cloaked as it was in the BS rhetoric of “getting back to the event’s roots,” was nothing more than a thinly veiled act to introduce your version of a Caste system designed to keep out the “untouchables” and turn the event from effulgent emancipation to a turgid and cliquish display of hauteur.  You got your wish… and thousands found something better to do.   Well done.  But hey, the goat cheese and Cloudy Bay sauvignon blanc still tickled the educated palates and no one amongst the well coiffed and polished seemed to miss the riff raff.  Ya know, those who really were responsible for P2P’s huge following and $$$ success.

And it wasn’t just the great unwashed who stayed away.  Many longtime loyal upper socio-economic supporters opted out; some at P2P spin offs; some staying home.   The Logan House party, featuring many from the medical profession, in addition to others who have more than enough cash on their debit cards and couth in their cabinets, was a happening.  Of course a certain hoity societal maven had to immediately discount the affair and its immediate (and potential) impact with as much pooh pooh as she could muster, “Obviously, a couple of hundred people at the Logan House is not going to make or break an (see this) event.” Really?  Do she really understand viral backlash and the reason for the LOHO party’s instant success?  Does she not know that was but a microcosm?  Does she really believe that there are not thousands who have turned their noses on those noses who turned on them?  Does she not hear and feel the buzz?  Can it be that such a massive turn against the event was a onetime deal… an anomaly… an illusion?  I don’t thinks so.   Someone is delusional and the event took a hit as a result.  And it will continue.

Oh, but yes, the weather cooperated, the Carriage processional – replete with sweaty top hats – rolled over the meadow and past the woods, the front row pinapple casings were filled with quality hooch, the Piava, fillets, and Swarowski still adorned fine linen crowned tables, and the seersucker’s still promenaded with the villagers and ladybugs.  It was what it was intended to be.   But it could’ve been so much more.  So much more.

And add this telling comment as an epilogue; coming as it were from one who chose to attend but found the new vibe unappetizing as she stood outside the velvet ropes: “I don’t like being profiled as poor.”

Ya wanna know something?  No one else does either.

And that’s the Point to the Point.

So I woke up yesterday morning, made a cup of Joe, checked in with the love of my life,  and booted up to check to news.  A good day ahead, I thought,  Saturday…blog’s doing well,  the King, Tony and the pretenders all keeping us well stocked with material…the Olympics are on…got a Porterhouse and an Amarone on tap for dinner;  a good day.

Well, my good mood’s duration could be clocked with an egg timer as my joy and mood went from delight to disbelief as I perused the local news.  Coffee spewed from my mouth and shot through my schnoz as I read that the self proclaimed matron of pomposity  – Jill, my husband cant win an election, Abbott (no not of Costello fame – although this was high comedy) had somehow decided that 25,000 Delawareans  for years had somehow been under the ridiculous assumption that the State’s most anticipated social event: Point-To Point…was supposed to be a snotty affair.  Well, I am paraphrasing a ‘lil.  What the custodian of Delaware’s societal code did say, was…”This is an invitation to lunch in Mr. duPont’s garden”…huh? WTF! Lunching in Mr. duPont’s garden?  Has Jill been drinking Kool aid laced with Jack, crack and hauteur?  Has she for all these years worn a blindfold purchased at the Wilmington Country Store?

I’ve got news for Jill Abbott: Point-to Point is a f@#%^&* COCKTAIL PARTY!…and us commoners love it.  And if I may be so bold – God forbid – no one gives a shit about the races or giving more than a respectful nod to the Weymouth’s carriages and some pretty cool vintage wheels.   Oh, it’s a lil fun to make a bet or two; and there is an air of class, but the reason anyone – save for the parvenu’s – buys a ticket is to party.  Granted, there is an heir of sophistication and, for the most part there is such a show of courtesy as the ladies adorn themselves in Churchill Downs splendor, replete with loud and garish haberdashery, and the gentlemen in button down and Seersucker Greenville chic.  And some even watch the big screens as they migrate happily from tail to tail in inebriated euphoria catching up and drinking up.

Seems like Jill and the rest of the twinkers have been influenced by some bad apples, their own pretention, and the presence and influence of the down and stodgy ex-UD scrooge David P. Roselle.  Yep, the same Roselle who ignored Delaware State while ruining a time honored tailgating tradition at the Blue Hen football games – and both at the same time…now that’s talent!   It resides in mentalities like this where folks take a few incidents and complaints and pull the plug on or forever alter the whole shebang.  Now General Roselle has turned his magic idiot wand on the State’s biggest (and only) real cocktail party with fees and exclusions that will choke off the freedom and revelry that has made this our can’t miss affair.

Yes, the masses for the most part will return like the swallows of Capistrano, but it will now be like riding Indy with a MPH cap on your engine…It just wont be the same.

But hey, Jill, Rich, and David will have a blast as will those who have prayed for the day the riff raff would be permitted only to stand outside the ropes and gawk at all the Special people toasting with Baccarat goblets…not those gosh red plastic solo cups, yo.