Every September, I receive the Swiss Colony catalog of Christmas eatables. The Swiss Colony is a mail-order purveyor of sweet, delicious things like Genuine Dobosh Tortes. These are the ones which are always described as "feeds up to 48" - only true if you cut the torte on a meat slicer with the setting on 'Shave.' Maybe it works for feeding starving Ethiopian children: "Don't worry, little Baatuu; there will be some cake left for you - you're only 37th in line." Around here, the torte produces only about nine normal-sized servings.

Last year, I was offered a charge account in a letter signed by Hans Kubly. Nice Swiss name. Obviously from the German section of the country rather than, say, the Italian region. Sounds very Swiss; although there are a lot of Jewish people in Switzerland as well. But Swiss Colony probably didn't get nearly as good response when they market-tested Izzy Kaplan's signature. Or M. Routleau from the French-speaking region.

Hans also enclosed a charge card printed especially for me with a credit limit of $1,100. This was surprising since we haven't bought anything from the good Swiss folks in several years. (My wife won't let me and she hides the catalog - because I want to buy everything in it.) I wonder how they set their credit limits? Is it on some financial/credit score or do they pick a number based on market potential - one's weight? The more obese you are - the higher the limit. I can imagine some 800-pound guy getting a card with a $48,000 limit. He's probably bedridden; therefore, he has lots of time to watch television while munching on tortes, truffles and petit-fours. I wonder if they give Gwenyth Paltrow a low limit - or no card at all? Perhaps, the catalog is directed toward skinny people like Gwenyth; she could probably get 48 servings from that little #$@* torte!

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Update: Since I bought from them last year (very tasty stuff), they have now raised my limit to $1,200. Possibly because they trust me more. Or because they think I've gained a little weight.

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Someday, I'd like to visit the Swiss Colony in Wisconsin. I picture the Colony as a green, grassy farm populated by smiling, apple-cheeked, blue-eyed, flaxen-haired folks, joyously stirring up chocolate in gleaming copper vats or merrily whistling while baking cake products in large Krupp stainless steel ovens. Or mixing dough in giant Krauss-Maffei rotating industrial mixers. Meanwhile, happy cows graze in a large, verdant pasture seeded with white Alpine flowers tended by Hummel-like shepherds in colorful lederhosen.

Or ... maybe everything is made by a bunch of sullen workers housed in a dilapidated brick building in a South Milwaukee ghetto.

On second thought, maybe I better not visit. Just place an order and, when it arrives, enjoy the rich, fattening goodies.

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Don't be shy - try a bribe. It might help.