Somebody, Help Oprah!

It seems every time I tune into "Oprah After the Show" on the Oxygen network, she's saying something that saddens me or pisses me off. (See previous blog of April '05).

Last night, I tuned in while cooking dinner. She had on bizzaro actress Kirstie Alley who was showing off her fancy-schmancy bedroom, complete with a French chandelier, antique Itallian writing desk and an inflatable, blanket-filled swimming pool where her pet rabbit, "Strawberry" lives.

After the clip, Oprah and Kirstie spoke at length about how they "love their houses" and how they have "the best houses in the world". Oprah then told us her housekeeper said "I love my house, too". Proving to her devoted fans that even lowly service workers can love the little shit boxes they call home.

But what really made my jaw drop to the floor was Oprah's next comment:

"It was my house that finally made me lose my weight. I felt I owed it to myself to live up to such a beautiful home. I couldn't be my big-butted old self and still live there!"

WHAT THE FUCK?????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jesus, Oparah? Why don't you go and bleach your skin so you can prove what you're really saying?

'A po' black woman don't deserve to live in no rich white woman's palace!'

I feel sad for Oprah. To her and the millions like her, superficiality is reality. An inanimate house, created by human beings, that does not possess a consciousness and is as benign as a Swingline stapler, has become her judge and jury.

I am reminded of my mother, who's favorite excuse for not taking a photography class or going on a vacation or even taking herself out for lunch is "Before I do that I need to get rid of this weight". She has put off an entire life because she hates the way she looks.

So, she sits at home and watches Oprah on TV and agrees with everything she says.