Does Anyone In the Neighborhood Want My Leftover Cholent?

So, firstly, just to get this out of the way: Yes, I recognize that the word Listserv is a registered trademark and most e-mail lists are not actually Listservs with a capital L. However, since I handed in my copy editor stripes over four years ago and since I am now a super-busy, slightly (well, let's say slightly) lazy grad student, I am going to use the word Listserv when I mean e-mail list. Because, I'm sorry, e-mail list just doesn't have the same ring to it (nor does garbage receptacle instead of Dumpster or acetaminophen instead of Tylenol. Just saying). 

So, now that that's out of the way... Z and I have been living in a truly lovely community. The people here are incredibly friendly and we've been all in all very happy here. In this community, there is a Jewish Listserv. Now, this Listserv has served us well: It found us the house we're living in and it transported our meat for us from Lakewood.

But this list is also ridiculous. Firstly, last week someone offered their leftover cole slaw on the list. Now, if you have boxes of hand-me-downs or kitchen appliances or an old computer to offer up, the Listserv is excellent. But leftovers? I have some leftover cholent in my fridge, anyone want it? Anyone? I think I'll offer it to the whole community. First come, first served.

Also, I am left with the nagging feeling that nobody actually reads this Listserv. Lots of people post on it, but that's different than actually getting through to people. An example:

Now, after the first e-mail was sent, don't you think the second guy should have just e-mailed the first guy who clearly had his coat? Well, he would obviously have done that. Had he read the Listserv.