A Night at the Oprah

Lambo isn't the only blogger who has been sending me disturbing correspondences. Last week I received rather a suspicious plain white envelope in the mail from our old friend RevRee. I immediately sent it to the boys in the lab* to have it tested for anthrax and nerve gas, but luckily it turned out negative. Upon opening the package, I was overcome by noxious fumes emanating from deep inside. For a moment I thought I would have to fire the boys in the lab and get me some new boys. But I was later informed by RevRee that the caustic substance was commercially available form of perfume known as a "body splash." Now I don't know about you, but I always thought "body splash" was something that happened on the toilet after eating too much chili.

I dumped the contents of the package on the kitchen counter. The first thing that caught my eye was a greeting card with a black and white photo of a somewhat homely woman in a cheerleading outfit. Printed on the inside of the card: "Edward was secretly amused after winning the title of Miss Lubbock." And scribbled underneath was something to the effect of, "HA HA HA, isn't that funny??!" Sorry RevRee, but the only greeting cards I enjoy are the ones that contain cash. But thanks anyway.

The other item contained in this package was a gold, shiny disc-shaped object with the words "OPRAH DAVE" written in black magic marker. Must be a CD by some new rock group, I thought. But then I remembered: Eight years ago, RevRee promised to send me a DVD of David Letterman's appearance on the Oprah show. (Apparently the mail is a little slow in the Podunk town she lives in.)

Before I continue, let's set the record straight. I do not like Oprah or any of her book club joining, spirit feeling, Maya Angelou worshiping followers. These brainwashed yentas and their scented candles are a danger to society and need to be stopped. However, I do enjoy the comedy stylings of Mr. David Letterman, a man who rarely appears on other peoples' shows. So it was with great anticipation that I slid the OPRAH DAVE disc in my DVD player.

I don't think I've ever sat through an entire Oprah program in my entire life...and after sitting through this DVD, now I know why. The show begins with Oprah's grand entrance. I swear to you, when this woman walks into a room, it was like the second coming of Christ. I haven't heard so much hooting and hollering since alcohol-induced night of debauchery with a certain Ms. Babble. Oprah's intro was shot with approximately 37 cameras, NONE OF WHICH appear to be in focus. I'm guessing that's the way Oprah likes it.

Oprah said a few words to her loyal subjects, but it was hard to hear anything over the cackling and screaming. Finally, Dave came out and took a seat in one of Oprah's oversized, overpadded chairs. Oprah then proceeded to ask Dave a series of predictable questions about fatherhood, being a comedian, and surviving a sextuple heart bypass. Really groundbreaking material.

I just don't get it. How the fuck did this no-talent nappy headed ho get to be fucking famous?? What do you bitches see in her anyway??! Geez, if you're going to idolize somebody, it should be a MAN...and that man should be ME!

To add insult to injury, Dave didn't even do the full hour. The second half of the show consisted of a mind blowing interview with the one and only Lisa Marie Presley, who spoke for 20 minutes about what it's like having Presley for a last name. Oprah reached for a box of Kleenex as the obligatory sobbing began. It was at this point that I snatched the DVD from the player, tossed it in my own Presley, and shat upon it with great vigor. (Can you say IRONY???)

Now let that serve as a lesson for the rest of you. If you're thinking of sending me a package, that package better contain CASH, PORN, or a combination of cash AND porn. You got that??!



* I do not have a lab, nor do I have any boys. Unless you count my houseboy Pepe.