Potlucks seem to occur only in the wholesomest places—coffee hour at church, parents' night at grade school. Having recently returned to the life of a graduate student, I attended my first in a long while—a department gathering—and it fit the mold: a delicious spread, kids running around, crickets chirping in the back yard.
Ah, community, togetherness, sharing: Isn't that what the potluck exemplifies? Well, yes and no. A popular misconception is that the word "potluck" comes from the Native American "potlatch" ceremony, but according to the Oxford English Dictionary it really is just what it sounds like, an English compound suggesting that there's going to be a dish of something ("pot") that you did not dictate ("luck"). The term originally did not imply that you, the potlucker, would be providing anything in return. Generally, "to take potluck" means "to take one's chances," which sort of emphasizes the potential downsides. In a usage example from 1740—"During my stay here, I was going to take pot-luck with Colonel Ingram"—one can imagine the speaker continuing along the lines of "with my fingers crossed that the Colonel would serve something other than brandy from a bucket this time."
If you really wanted to stick to the original meaning of "potluck," it almost seems that instead of showing up to a potluck all smiles and ready to share, you should show up and behave as if you were at the craps' table at Mohegan Sun. Indeed, for the etymological originalist, a potluck is no longer a communal way to feed many, but a blood-rousing sport of chance. Rubbing your hands together, you bust in to the gathering and head to the buffet table. You throw your hands up. "Tuna casserole? Dammit! Come on, people!" Or conversely, "Yes! Sweet! Pork belly with escarole, score! I win!" You will also find a version of this scheme in How to Make a Group of Girl Scouts or Churchgoers Hate Your Guts For Dummies.
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