I was sitting in the living room of my best friends' (G and his wife N) house the other night. They're a happening bohemian couple who live in the swinging, cool part of town, and they invited me over for a drink and "to have a talk" with me. The conversation started out light-hearted until they broached the subject of fixing me up on a date. I was a bit hesitant and asked whether the intended lady was of fair stature and worthy intellectual capacity. At this, N's eyes started tearing up and she covered her mouth with her hand. G gave me a flinty-eyed stare. "Uriel," he said, "if I were you, I would not look a gift horse in the mouth." My suspicion was further raised by the intended's inauspicious name: "Brumhilda". I was reminded of the advice my maternal grandfather gave me: "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, but make sure it's not full of Greeks." ...