Associated Press

You are one silly little white girl, Nanny Pants. I take one look at your mousy-ass face and I must warn myself, “Be merciful, Oprah. Stay thy recently manicured hand.”

Photo by Michael L via Flickr.

What up, fools?

Now don’t start convulsing and carrying on about how a salutation from my holy keyboard is like warm sunlight on your soul. (Which is true.) It’s time to discuss one of my most hallowed prophecies: Oprah’s Book Club!!! As it was decreed upon the sacred mountain, i.e. the imported marble balcony of my glittering Santa Barbara estate: You shall acquire a copy of the good book (Middlesex) and imbibe it’s every moral.

You shall learn about hermaphrodites (They got both private parts! That shiznit is crazy!) and be endeared to their struggles through your empathy for the unlikely heroine/hero of Calliope Stephanides. You shall not think it’s whack that her/his parents were a brother and sister who did the nasty. We are all accepted in Oprah’s heavenly embrace. (Except for David Letterman, James Frey, and others with mad beef].) You shall appreciate the cultural complexities of the Greek people, who show their joy by breaking plates and eating lamb testicles . . .

Shoot, I’m hungry. I summon Gayle: “Bring me the sacred meat!” This wrapper is Satan’s conundrum, oh wait, here I go … Daaaaaamn, this Slim Jim is the heat!

Associated Press

“O” followers and nonfollowers–who must live under rocks or in caves–alike, prepare yourselves for my latest “O”riginal creation.

As it is written: I awoke in my diamond-encrusted canopy bed with a divine sweat (my perspiration formed a perfect “O” in my 3 billion thread count sheets) and summoned Gayle, my disciple/editor/homegirl.

I sayeth unto her: “Wake up! I am in need of counsel.” (And by that, I meant for Gayle to massage my bunions and agree obediently.) “So, how can we assuage the masses of middle-aged, badly dressed women who leave my talk show studio feeling empty upon the painful realization that their lives have climaxed in a single, magical pilgrimage to my mecca of self-help and celebrity couch antics that lasted only an hour and a half and didn’t include a car giveaway?”