Hello, hi, I’m Libby Gelman-Waxner and because Paul has what he considers a life-threatening quasi-viral upper-and-outer respiratory infection, and what most people would call a cold, he has asked me, alright, he has begged me to fill in for him. As I’m sure you know, I am both an extremely successful buyer of Juniors Activewear for a major global retail operation; a loving wife to my husband Josh, who was recently named the Upper East Side’s Eighth Most Respected Orthodontist Who’s Willing to Take Walk-Ins; the mother of two perfect children, Jennifer and Mitchell Sean; and most importantly, I am America’s most beloved all-round meta-media omni-forensic cultural critic. I am currently a columnist at the heavenly Entertainment Weekly, which has just named Sandra Bullock as its Entertainer of the Year, and not just because she looks so dazzling in a form-fitting white gown on the current cover. I could also rock a form-fitting white gown, but I choose not to, because it’s Sandra’s week.
I also need to confirm a report that, as a child, I was asked to participate in The Hunger Games, representing my hometown of Great Neck on Long Island. When I was placed in the arena, I was the only contestant ever allowed to go home early, because I had a note from my pediatrician which read, “Dear Hunger Games, Libby will not be able to slaughter any other children today, because she has a nervous stomach as a result of some questionable Rice Krispie Treats. However, if you’d like to send some children to Libby’s home, she might be able to slaughter them later in the afternoon, after Days of Our Lives.”
I have also been asked to comment, by one of my more urgent inner voices, on the use of flameless holiday candles. These candles are usually plastic cylinders with tiny, battery-operated flickering lights, sometimes accompanied by a little flapping plastic flame, which resembles a press-on nail. These candles can be placed in every window of your home, and set on a timer, to allow burglars to ask themselves, “Is that person at home, perhaps with a loaded revolver, or shall I break in and steal their flameless candles?” I will only say this: I thoroughly approve of flameless candles, especially the latest variety which actually turn different rainbow colors, because these candles make electric menorahs seem more tasteful. As a proud Jew, I have questioned that moment when a rabbi is raised, in a mechanical cherry-picker, to light the flames of that huge 12-foot-high aluminum menorah which stands across from the Plaza Hotel. I’m not positive, but I think I’ve heard the rabbi muttering, “Eat that, Santa!”
As for me, I will remember the brave struggle of that tiny band of Jews so many centuries ago, every time I pass the menorah in my apartment building lobbby, and see that the guy behind the front desk has screwed in another flickering orange bulb. Today that bulb will not only mark another glorious day of Chanukah, but also Tyra Banks’ 40th birthday. Much mazel to Tyra and us all.
December 4, 2013
