The Big O!

This from the New York Times:
Oh, Oprah, 20 Years of Talk, Causes and Self-Improvement
"Ms. Winfrey has released a six-disc DVD collection of her greatest moments - a maudlin, self-congratulatory video memoir that is entirely deserved and mesmerizing to watch.
The whole extravaganza is embarrassingly lavish and over the top, and not nearly enough."

I don't know. Oprah appeals to women, and to Dr. Phil. She is easily the modern world's Johnny Carson. The four times I had to sit through her shows I was with women who were on the rag. Oprah is undeniably rag material. This does not make her less important, nor is it meant to belittle those ladies who feel comforted by Oprah in their time of bleed, but I can't stand watching the woman for more than four minutes.

This may be an abitrary time thrown out by me, with no psychological underpinnings other than it makes for a nice round number for the sake of a narrative, but it is a very close estimate to the amount of time it takes me to want to run from the television.

Oprah is a force, there is no doubt, but she is also self-important. The fact that she is the living embodiment of a rags to riches story verges on saccharine. I only hope I can write a novel before she retires that she deems worthy of the Oprah book club.

I'm torn between a deep revulsion of the woman and a profound respect. A friend of mine used to call her the whale, back when she was a colored woman. Now that she's homogenized herself, I might even consider her sexy, as long as I don't have to spend more than four minutes with her.