Random Memorandum™ to Glinda the Good Witch of the South® and/or Southampton: You are the most powerful sorceress in all of L. Frank Baum’s Oz™ and/or cable television's Hallmark Channel™. You possess age-defying, soft-focus Technicolor® beauty and rehearsed charm, a vast command of magic, cunning and kitchen utensilry, and an uncommonly kind disposition toward the farm girl from Kansas, her pain in the ass dog and sack of shite sidekicks. Though you’ve been reportedly less kindly to nannies, associate producers and neighborhood coffee baristas, you risked the wrath of your evil-intending, green-hued cousin to the West — Margaret Hamilton, spokeswoman for Maxwell House® coffee — as well as an army of snotty culinary detractors, fending off all adversaries to the delight of the bite-sized citizenry of Munchkinland and/or your studio audience. While you suffered an embarrassing, five-month incarceration for questionable dealings involving insider chicken stock, you kept your well-cosmeticized face and neck held high. You, madam, are Wonder Woman™ in a roomy pantsuit and crown, capable of catering events ‘long the Yellow Brick Road™ and penning ghastly, ghost-written cooking tomes with equal aplomb! Indeed, you can move heaven and earth with a wave of your shimmering wand and/or spatula. So explain to Yours Truly Dooley™ how ‘tis that you can do all these things, yet you can’t do better than the name Glinda? Really? Glinda? I’ve know Glendas and Lindas, Melindas and Belindas, but I’ve yet to encounter another Glinda. ‘Tis perhaps a family name beloved by your Polish ancestry, this Glinda. Seems an ill-fit for a bejeweled, levitating media titan, if you'll forgive me for saying, but so be it. On with show, Citizen Bewitched! Keep an eye out for spiraling houses descending from the heavens and be cautious not to scorch the crepes.
