The Story of O

Since I am a responsible adult with a day job, I don't usually get to enjoy the glut of talk shows on daytime television. Even through the haze of whatever cold or hangover I suffer to make me call out sick, I can appreciate the glory that is watching "Who's my Baby's Daddy?" on Maury or watching Ellen post poor-quality pictures of people's fat cats on her looky-loo. The schadenfreude of daytime television is excellent. When I was in high school I'd watch Oprah some days (I managed to catch the episode about mad cow that put me off red meat for a year) and I didn't love or hate her. She was just a gaudily dressed plump conduit of entertainment. I love the "favorite things" episode where she gives away (read: companies line up to curry Oprah's favor so she advertises their crap for free) thousands of dollars worth of terry cloth bathrobes and iPods. Occasionally when my life feels too good, I'll watch an episode about mothers hooked on painkillers or people who inadvertently killed/maimed their children through carelessness and cry like, well, an Oprah audience member.
I took my Mom to the doctor on Friday so I spent my Friday evening watching Oprah. I hoped it was a "fun Oprah" show (such as her makeover on a budget show) instead of a "sad Oprah" (9-11 widows or whatever). Instead I got the rarely seen "in-between Oprah" show about hoarders. A few months ago, they found a woman in the audience who wanted to "declutter" her house, and when the crew showed up, it turned out this woman, Carol, was living in her own filth. Now I don't mean piles of paper and a few dirty dishes. I mean dog shit in the shower and maggots in the crock pot. Carol's behavior went beyond slovenly; she's got a mental disease. Oprah mentioned that Carol is in need of help and Oprah sent a specialist in hoarding to help Carol clean out her house. I mention this because Oprah is theoretically aware of how ill Carol is. Yet in the segues between video clips of Carol's stagnant dishwater, Oprah is laughing at Carol. Making her "girl, your house is a pit" comments while the audience laughs merrily at Carol's misery. She is fucked up, Oprah. This is not laughing at a Phil McGraw non-sequitur, Ms. Winfrey. Would you laugh in the face of a woman who's depressed? Probably not if you wanted to cling to your media empire. Shift your heavily made-up face to "compassionate" for this one.
This is my main problem with Oprah. People believe that she's so open and compassionate. I think she's a big phony. The second guest on Friday's show videotaped herself in her crowded house, begging for Oprah to help her as if Oprah was the only person who has access to psychologists. If I had to beg someone for help, I'd beg Ellen, because she'd come in with a sense of humor, a genuine air and a bitchin' soundtrack. I remember (vaguely) the Oprah I watched when I was in elementary school, when Oprah was bigger and she seemed much more compassionate. Now that she's lost weight, she seems to think all her problems have been solved and we normal humans should be able to surmount whatever problems we face with similar ease. On this show, Oprah even compares the hoarding behavior with her own "issues with food." "I always compare guests' problems with my issues with food," Oprah lectures, "because I struggled, and I learned it's through diet and exercise blah blah never ends, always have to exercise blah blah like mental health issues blah blah." You hoarded Ho-Hos into your mouth, Oprah. Carol is hoarding dog shit. There is a difference. Also, anyone who has a football roster worth of personal trainers, cooks and nutritionists can lose weight. Oprah tries to play "everywoman" while keeping an air of superiority about her and it's wearing thin.

"If I cry, the ratings will come..."
On the hoarding episode, Oprah tries to keep it real. She asks Carol why her dogs are taking shits in the shower, and says "Why don't you take them outside? I take my dogs outside and pick up the poop; outside." Uh-huh. You have time to run a television program, book club, magazine and exercise your flaws away, yet you still take your dogs outside to make Number Two? I highly doubt that. Either her boyfriend Stedman or a person who is paid twice what I make walks the sprawling grounds of her estate with a solid gold pooper-scooper to clean up after Oprah's "children with fur." You are not street, Oprah. You and J.Lo should hang out together-- you may both be from the block, but you no longer have any cred there.
Oprah has changed from a plump lady who tried to help people into a egomaniac with her well-manicured hands in too many pots. If you find solace from the barely disguised contempt that Oprah shows her troubled guests, all the more power to you. When she's handing out Pontiacs she's tolerable. If you have a serious problem and need to publicly air it, try Judge Judy or Maury. At least they're honest with their holier-than-thou attitude.