THENEWYORKER,M AY18, 2020 23
SHOUTS & MURMURS
W
hat the world needs right now is
another endless musing on stay-
ing at home during the coronavirus pan-
demic; the C.D.C. has declared these
pieces to be a symptom of COVID-19
that can be treated only by gentle snor-
ing. When I am not working at my job
as an associate buyer in juniors’ active-
wear, I moonlight as America’s most be-
loved film critic. But, with so little fresh
product, even the most esteemed re-
viewers, like me, are in a quandary, which
is why you’re seeing so many Top Ten
lists of foreign sci-fi movies from 1962.
So, as a public service, I’d like to pro-
vide the only tips you really need:
- Study Ivanka’s tweets. So far, she’s
advised us to build living-room forts,
have fun with eighteenth-century shadow
puppets, and continually praise her for
using the words “jobs,” “empower,” and
“me.” While I consider myself to be
proudly useless and self-involved, Ivanka
puts me to shame. I’ve been monitoring
her hair, which resembles the entire
L’Oréal color wheel; her heavy Benja-
min Moore-grade makeup; and her al-
ways inappropriate wardrobe of Amish
cocktail dresses. It’s as if her dream were
to become a society-lady panelist on
“What’s My Line?” in 1958. When she
speaks, in her breathy Tweety Bird-at-
boarding-school burble, the effect is com-
plete. She’s an American Girl doll with
a trust fund and a Gucci attaché case.
- Watch Dad TV. These are the shows
that your dad relishes from his recliner
and discusses at length over dinner, as
if he were a consultant. They might as
well all be called “Law & Order: Your
Dad.” Dick Wolf is your dad’s Hugh
Hefner. My favorites include “FBI,” in
which a team of attractive agents solves
upscale crimes in under an hour, led by
Missy Peregrym, whose hair is yanked
back to look professional and yet is high-
lighted because she’s on TV. “FBI: Most
Wanted” depicts grimmer crimes in bleak
suburban neighborhoods with terrible
lighting. (Bad lighting and cheap flan-
nel shirts have been identified as the
chief causes of the opioid epidemic.)
The Mom versions of these shows
are medical soaps. I enjoy “The Resi-
dent,” in which an attractive team of At-
lanta doctors cures just about everything
in forty-five minutes, led by hunky Matt
Czuchry in fitted scrubs and a motor-
cycle jacket, coupled up with the gor-
geous Emily VanCamp as ultra-nurse
Nic. When this dreamy pair saunter into
the E.R., everyone sighs, “Thank God!
The hot blonds are here.” “New Am-
sterdam” is a teensy bit grittier, because
it’s set in New York, and it has an at-
tractive medical team (including a gay
psychologist), led by Ryan Eggold, who
can remove tumors just by tilting his
head like an adorable puppy.
Warning: Don’t watch these shows
with a real doctor, lawyer, or police officer,
because they’ll start screaming.
- Never watch Trump’s press briefings.
They’re unthinkably dull. Instead, catch
the CNN clips of the President losing
it, and then check Breitbart for the de-
nials of everything he just said on cam-
era. For a drinking game, take a sip when-
ever Trump calls a female journalist
“nasty” or a male journalist “a loser.”And,
while it’s fun to track Dr. Deborah Birx’s
infinite scarf collection, her masochism
is voluntary and deadening. Dr. Anthony
Fauci is the only hero here, but I wish,
while Trump is blathering, that Fauci
would mime silently screaming.
- Watch your local news. Notice which
at-home anchors have plastic orchids
on their bookcases filled with paper-
backs from college. Observe, “Oh, he
lives in Westchester—that’s why he’s got
a fire pit out the window, and a framed
photo of his first wife and their kids.”
- When you put on your mask and gloves
to go to Whole Foods, pretend you’re a
neurosurgeon. Ask your spouse to assist,
to make the first incision, and to close
up the patient. It’s fun to do this in the
produce aisle, using a head of lettuce.
- Make no attempt to rediscover the
joy of family meals. My perfect daughter,
Jennifer, who’s home from college, just
told me, “Your generation not only deci-
mated the planet but has made my future
an economic quagmire. So I need eleven
hundred dollars for this cute top made
from recycled scrunchies that I saw on
Etsy, and they donate three dollars from
every purchase to buy smoothies for peo-
ple who look sad and thoughtful on Insta-
gram.” My middle schooler, Sean, posted
a TikTok, wearing my yoga pants and
Chanel warmup jacket and doing a dance
he calls Spin Mom on a Bender. My hus-
band, Josh, who’s home because ortho-
dontics is considered elective medicine,
is writing a novel called “Brace Yourself,”
which he calls “a no-holds-barred thriller
about a rugged midtown orthodontist
who saves the world by solving the an-
cient mystery of a pharaoh’s overbite and
defeating his modern-day death cult with
the help of a gorgeous French dental hy-
gienist.” So we’ve all agreed to pretend
that we’re by ourselves in the apartment,
while I scroll through photos of Melania
planting a tree on the White House lawn
to commemorate Earth Day, wearing a
Victoria Beckham trenchcoat and Mano-
los, which is her way of declaring, “We’re
all in this together,” if you ask me.
IF YOU ASK ME: THE LAST
QUARANTINE THINK PIECE
By Libby Gelman-Waxner
LUCI GUTIÉRREZ
