We’re in the dreaded NFL offseason. There’s still no real football for months. You’re hurt. You’re angry. You’re hateful. We understand. At KSK, hating things is what we do best, which is why we have the recurring This Week In F–k You series, to soothe your white hot anger. This week: Oprah Winfrey.
Oprah Winfrey’s final show is today. I mentioned it here, but it’s worth repeating: Oprah has basically built a career out of tricking people into being inspired by Oprah talking about herself. I don’t know why people get suckered into her bullshit. I really don’t. This is a woman who brings on Suzanne Somers and Jenny McCarthy to give you fucking medical advice. This is a woman who embodies every horrible stereotype about rich liberals when she brags to Duke students about how awesome it is to travel via private jet. This is a woman who puts a photo of herself on EVERY issue of her magazine, every month. And I’m supposed to think the end of her pissant daytime show deserves some kind of honor? The woman’s been honoring herself every day for a fucking quarter century.
Oprah’s slogan is “Live your best life,” but what her slogan really means is “Live Oprah’s life.” Read the books SHE likes. Get advice from HER doctors. Hang out with HER friends. Buy the things SHE buys. She’s not so much a human being as she is a walking infomercial, covered in seal blubber and topped with a poofy wig. Even her most personal revelations are calculated for maximum brand impact. Oprah lost weight AND ONLY SHE KNOWS THE SECRET TO HOW IT’S DONE! Oprah has a long-lost half sister AND NOW ALL WILL BE REVEALED. There’s a reason every piece of shit reality star out there lists “being the next Oprah” as their next goal, because being the next Oprah means whoring yourself out to interplanetary levels and somehow ending up being lauded for it.
We all make fun of Donald Trump all the time because Trump is constantly congratulating himself for his successes, be they real or imaginary (usually the latter). And because Trump is a fuckhead. But Trump is really no different from Oprah. Both have made a career out of climbing on rooftops and declaring their success, suckering in people who aren’t successful and have duped themselves into believing that some famous idiot can guide them in the right direction. Hey, Oprah’s rich and happy! She must know how I can get rich and happy! MAYBE SHE’LL GIVE MY ASS A CAR!
The reality is that it’s a con. You’re gonna have to pay taxes on that piece of shit Pontiac Oprah gave you, and you’re never going to be as rich as her. That twiggy cunt Gwynnie Paltrow isn’t gonna come over to your house and make you an organic beefsteak tomato salad that’s every bit as satisfying as eating a two-pound ribeye. Those are all lies. And the beauty of those lies is that the longer you, Mrs. Housewife Viewer, go without being happy or successful, the more desperate you become to believe it all. Oprah has succeeded in getting millions of American women to live vicariously through her, to cheer on her successes because they’ve convinced themselves that they somehow have relevance to their lives. That’s the amazing thing. This woman’s a fucking billionaire with no kids who travels around in a private jet, and yet her audience still believes they have something in common with her. They have more in common with Lenny fucking Dykstra.
You have Oprah to blame for the Kardashian sisters, and virtually any other celebrity out there who spends more time promoting themselves than they do offering you something of actual value. At least I can jerk off to Kim. The end of Oprah’s show signifies nothing more than the end of hourly show dedicated to a smug, disingenuous person who loves to show off all her famous friends and her incredible lifestyle. She’s like Simmons without the “Karate Kid” references. One time I was stuck at the hospital while my wife was having our second kid and I had to sit there and listen to her trade compliments with Ashton Kutcher and human tit cyborg Demi Moore, and I wanted to suffocate my child with his crib mattress to keep him from living in a world where people actually listen to Oprah Winfrey. Every guy has had to sit through at least one episode of this woman’s show at the behest of a wife/girlfriend/mother, and every guy has the same reaction to it: “I can’t believe anyone buys this lady’s bullshit! What the fuck?”
She can eat shit and die, for all I care. Fuck you, Oprah. Unless you spend your last hour fessing up and playing Miss Fistblaster with Gayle King, the only thing startling about your exit is just how little it matters to anyone but yourself. FUCK OFF.