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.
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