A few years ago, I would have jumped at the chance to see Oprah Winfrey in person.
That’s because Oprah Winfrey had played a huge role in my life.
She helped me build a relationship with my mother. From health care to wealth care, she gave me information I could take to the bank.
She provided light in the afternoon for me as a stay-at-home mom, then a single mom. She gave me Dr. Phil when I was going through a messy divorce. And Dr. Oz who convinced me to get my blood pressure checked.
Oprah got us through.
But something changed, maybe five year or eight years ago. Oprah began to see herself as a prophet of some sort. “I believe I was born to greatness,” she told Barbara Walters. In other words, Oprah drank her own Kool Aid.
Suddenly, she was smarter than the rest of us, an expert on religion, morality and politics. She force fed us new age nonsense, built an opulent school in South Africa to separate the smart girls from their po’ neighbors. She bought the United States its first black president.
But it never seemed to be enough for Oprah.
She became too big for daytime.
So she bought herself a network to give her true believers are place to worship. Still not enough.
She needed to touch her subjects, lay on hands for 300 bucks a pop.
And now, she’s coming to Ottawa.
I really wish she hadn’t bothered.
Oprah used to the nice lady on the telly. Now she’s an ego in Spanx.
But she did us one favor.
She gave us Katie Couric.
And for that, we shut-ins will be eternally grateful.