Perhaps it is her perpetual invocation of “angels on earth.” Maybe it’s her honey chil’ patois fueled only by the presence of black guests. Possibly it’s her cameras-at-the-ready, “they need me” appearance at every international disaster (at least, the ones covered by ABC News). Or could it be her shameless, bug-eyed, bitten-by-rabid-squirrels studio audience?
For these and dozens of other reasons, Oprah must be sent away, camera-less, Steadman-less.
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Amen, brother. Add this to her list of offenses: the book club. On whose authority was Oprah handed credibility within the literary sphere? Her recommending books is like me recommending tampons. But her gaggle of followers is only too happy to tether itself to a summer reading of EAT, PRAY, LOVE, or whatever the f**k. (Actually, her half-brain-dead audience will probably love that cliched sh!tfest.)
Listen, Big O: Just 'cause you acted in a movie BASED on a book doesn't mean you are a qualified analyst of the latter medium. Talk about degrees of separation.
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