Well, here we are as in olden days, happy golden days! Or at least a time before any of us had ever heard the words “the Eleventh” or “Sarah Palin.” As the days shorten in anticipation of the anniversary of the humble birth of the one true godhead incarnate who came to save all of us Methodists from eternal damnation that we might live abundantly in the life everlasting - and also of that “Jewish holiday” about “candles” - thoughts turn naturally to holly, spiced cider, family, and fame. Most people wonder, as they struggle through stores clogged with other “wage earners” like themselves to spend money they haven’t got on gifts for people they don’t love, “what might thisseason of light be like if I were actually happy - if I were happy and famous?” Might it be brighter than the Christmas of this little child, whose no doubt broken home has scarred him or her - probably him - so badly that even the meager gift of a Barbie doll is decapitated and kicked to the curb, as if in protest of a holiday whose magic appears naught but a cruel sham?
Yes! It would indeed be brighter. For how could it be darker?
And so allow me this festive Yuletide to send your soul-starved way some of my celebrity Christmas luster! Here, for you my fans, is my 2011 Celebrity pre-Christmas Itinerary of Joy!
1. Last weekend I and my consort went ice-skating in Central Park! Quelle joie! All was merry and bright, and even the several minority families who seemed to have gained access to the pricey Trump-owned rink through some sort of scholarship were enjoying themselves fully. We arrived at dusk, just after the Zamboni had finished its rounds, which delighted me no end - I love nothing better than a smooth bottom under me! The park is a magical place to skate, even if one has not ingested the copious amounts of crystal methamphetamine consumed by one dilated and overzealous skater - clad only in a Philadelphia Eagles T-shirt against the winter chill. One hopes he might sober up enough to notice his frostbitten nipples by New Year’s. Even despite this snaggletoothed scrapper, our bonhomie might have been unadulterated were it not for the “holiday” music selections playing via loudspeaker across the rink, which were disappointingly of an entirely secular nature. I certainly enjoy I’ll Be Home for Christmas as much as the next homosexual, but it does not escape my keen observation that without a healthy sprinkling of the familiar religious carols one does begin to wonder why exactly one is going home at all! Hashtag “Reason for the Season”!
2. Apres-skate we sauntered over to the Avenue for a glance at what my middle-American fans can only dream of: the windows at Bergdorfs. Enchanting. This year the famous emporium catering to the 1% threw caution and unemployment to the wind in a deliciously frivolous display of haute couture-draped mannequins topped with wild animal heads - all I want for Christmas is whimsy! In celebration we treated ourselves to $6 nutella waffles from the Waffles & Dinges streetcart parked in front of The Plaza. Unfortunately the Barney’s windows disappointed this year. I suppose Simon Doonan is dead (and I’m sorry I missed the service, I’m sure I would have caught up with some old friends there!), because instead of the world-renowned decorative displays that have made an international name for Barney’s, the store merely slapped Lady Gaga’s name on a candy shoppe on the fourth floor and felt that would suffice. Yes, I know times are “hard.” I realize that rather than giving the masses some free delight on the sidewalk it may actually be more generous to those masses to lure them upstairs for an $80 lollipop with some bottle-job Italian pop icon’s face painted on it (even the masses must stuff stockings!). But I for one wanted some of that free delight on the sidewalk. Rest easy, though, dear fans: I’m sure I could buy an $80 lollipop if I really wanted one. And maybe next year Barney’s will feature one with my face on it!
3. I attended the Christmas market in Bryant Park, where I purchased two charming coffee mugs for the office party Secret Santa offering. They featured black and white photos of passed-out reprobates lying lifeless on menacing 1980s New York City subway trains. Ho ho ho!
(Oh, did I say “office party”? That’s right! In an effort to be as generous as I can be with my celebrity I have taken a full-time staff “job” as a writer/producer at Comedy Central. They need me! And in all seriousness fame - like everything else in this dark winter of our national discontent - is a bit slow right now.)
Well, for the moment I suppose I’ll leave you with that Christmas bombshell - I’ll pick up again soon with enough sparkle to get you through the rest of your sad little non-famous season! “You can count on me…”
God bless us everyone!
