Thursday, May 6th, 2010
For many women, Oprah is some sort of Godlike creature. Her overcoming-the-odds story of success has inspired millions. I know plenty of young women who aspire to Oprah-level ‘greatness’. I used to be one of those women, but over recent years I’ve come to realise something: I actually can’t stand Ms Winfrey.
Yes! Ahh, it’s such a relief to say it out loud. I’ve mumbled it before but you’re treated like you’re going against some sort of sisterhood if you point out that Oprah’s kind of a douche.
At first it was little things, like that stupid way she introduces people (the shouting, the drawn out words), or the fact that she is a truly awful interviewer (does she ever actually let someone finish a sentence?). But then I noticed the ongoing theme, the dark side of Oprah, her raison d’etre: Misery.
Oprah loves misery, she revels in it and spreads it like a virus. You do not exist to Oprah unless you have a sob story. What odds have you had to overcome to get where you are? Does it involve abuse or incest? No? Then f**k off! Any chance she gets to hammer the point home that she was abused, she takes it. No one knows hardship like Oprah, in her view.
When the author, James Frey revealed that he lied in his book ‘A Million Little Pieces’ (about his supposed drug and alcohol addiction), Oprah was outraged. Why? Sure, partly because he hadn’t been all the way truthful, but probably mainly because – dare I say it – he trumped the Queen at her own game. He made up some misery and sold it back to her like an East London market trader. Eat THAT Oprah!
Why did she love the film Precious so much and jump on it as a producer? Because of the heinous story of abuse, of course. She wants to delve into it, get as graphic as it can get. As sick as it is, it seems she feeds off it. When former child star, McKenzie Phillips revealed stories of drug abuse and having sex with her father, Oprah all but fell over herself to get her on the show. Oh the joy of delving deep into this woman’s murky world of misery. Watch the dollars roll in. And the most sickening one of late would be Oprah’s insistence on having actress Mo’Nique’s brother on the show. The brother who openly admits he abused Mo’Nique. The actress herself hasn’t spoken to him in years and said she has made her peace with the situation, so didn’t appear on the show. But hell, we can’t deprive Ms Oprah of the opportunity to revel in someone’s murky past.
While most hold Oprah up as a champion for stripping the taboo out of these delicate subject matters and making it okay to talk about, she’s really doing something much more sinister. She’s glorifying it. Yes, people who are going through such heinous experiences should be encouraged to talk about it, but with the right people. Seek out a counsellor or a support group. Oprah packages it and sells it to us for entertainment and that’s actually just quite sick.
When her show ends in 2011, I, for one, will be glad to see the back of it.
Tags: misery, oprah, rants
Posted in life | 19 Comments »
Tuesday, December 22nd, 2009
The ’00s have, without a doubt, been the decade of ‘talking it out.’ As soon as there’s a hint someone may have a problem, we say, ‘do you wanna talk about it?’ When celebs get in trouble, they are shipped off to therapy so they can ‘share their feelings.’ Well yeah, that was nice and all, but I vote we make the next ten years, the decade of shutting the hell up.
It’s great that everyone feels the need to get everything out there, but when I ask a casual acquaintance ‘how are you?’ and they feel the need to share every problem they’ve ever had in their life, it’s gone too far. Here’s a little advice: when I ask ‘how are you?’ – I don’t actually care. I’m merely being polite. So if you respond with anything other than ‘I’m fine thanks. And you?’ I reserve the right to bitch slap you and send you back to your therapist.
Is it even possible to be a celebrity anymore without a troubled past? It’s like a rite of passage. Whenever someone’s caught with their pants down or some coke up their nose, they have to do the big apology statement and say they’re going to an ‘in treatment facility’ (usually called ‘Inner Peace Sanctuary’ or some bollocks), only to re-emerge after their 90 days, hawking a tell-all book and pouring their heart out to Oprah.
We’re supposedly eating all this up because it means these celebrities are just like us. They have problems too. Of course they frikkin’ do – they’re human. If you’ve spent any time thinking otherwise, you’re an idiot. But I’m also not going to have sympathy when they shove their explanations for their behaviour down our throats. You know what, I don’t believe that every celeb with a drug problem had a troubled childhood. I think some people just like to get high. Not everyone who shags anything with two legs and a pulse is a sex addict. Perhaps they just like to get laid. Yes, sometimes it really is that simple.
This culture of over-sharing has got to slow its row. I’m tired of hearing everyone’s sob story. I’m not saying don’t speak about it ever, but choose whom you divulge information to carefully. If you’re a celebrity, that means talking about your crap with a therapist, if you think that works. If you’re a regular Joe, dump your issues on your understanding best friend. There are certain things the rest of us don’t want or need to know.
So thanks for doing a status update on Facebook about your last bowel movement and for telling me how great your boyfriend is in bed. I’ll be sure to file those under ‘shit I don’t care about.’
Have some class. Some things really are better left unsaid.
Tags: oprah, over-yapping, oversharing, yapping
Posted in life | 11 Comments »
Thursday, February 21st, 2008
No, you dirty pervs, not that big O, I’m talking about Oprah. Never let it be said that Big O doesn’t know how to self-promote. Obviously, there’s a lot lacking in her life, what with the talk show, TV network, radio network, magazine, school, political candidate and all. She needs a retail store.
Now, you can get your Oprah fix at a 5500 square-foot store in Chicago. It’s a big room full of self-awareness, living your dreams and getting in touch with your emotions.
There’s an endless supply of Oprah branded stuff: Make-up bags, mugs, T shirts, beach towels, umbrellas (ellas ellas), ‘passion’ journals (which come with an Oprah bucket for you to puke in after you’ve written in it), handmade African goods, some days you get a free Steadman with purchase. The list goes (tediously) on (forever).
I’ve been known to watch a bit of Oprah in my time, but do I want her name emblazoned on my chest on a terry cloth bathrobe? Not particularly. I also can’t envision myself ever saying ‘hey, you know what I need? An Oprah iPod cover.’
If you live in Chicago, prepare for the streets to be flooded with middle class white women wearing ‘O’ brand velour tracksuits.
I can see where Oprah’s coming from. I bet she can’t even afford to put fuel in her private jet with the pittance she makes from her regular gigs.
Whatever will she think of next?
Oi, Kidman…
I’m not a fan, I’ll be the first to admit that. But can you please answer a couple of things for me?
a) Are you serious with that dress?
b) Exactly what cocktail of drugs were you on when you decided to wear it?
I really can’t fathom what is going on here. I can count about ten different kinds of wrong, which, when broken down, amount to: seven different kinds of fabric, one mini goth pom-pom on each shoulder and one formaldehyde face. Thank God this picture cuts you off at the knees – I don’t even want to know what you’ve got on your feet. This entire get up makes my head hurt. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say, it’s time for a new stylist.
Serious corner
Isabelle Caro is a 26 year old French actress. An Italian fashion company, ‘Nolita’ recently used the recovering anorexic’s image in their ‘No Anorexia’ ad campaign.
Obviously, it caused a big hoo ha and eventually they had to remove it from billboards.
I’m not even going to go off on a big diatribe about the pressure the media puts on women to be skinny. I think the image speaks for itself.
What struck me is that she’s my age. If I’d have listened to those voices in my head when I was younger, telling me my hips were too wide or my thighs too flabby, well, this image serves as a scary glimpse into what could have been.
Tags: anorexia, oprah
Posted in fashion | 6 Comments »