Mount Oprah, Sorry Mount Olympus

In Oprah Winfrey’s own words, “The best revenge is success.” She ought to know.

When I lived in Washington, D.C., a weak signal from WBAL provided the first glimpse of a 20-something Oprah Winfrey.  Even then, she had an air of star quality about her.  It was obvious she was going places.

When she left Baltimore for Chicago and gave Phil Donahue a run for his money, she was admirably infectious presence, full of wit, inquiry, interest and eminently watchable.  She was smart, fearless, searching and compassionate.  She enjoyed her success and I enjoyed watching her enjoy it. I loved Oprah.  

Of late, that wonderfully real person has transmogrified into a self-righteous demagogue.  The problem is that where once she asked questions.  Now she has all the answers, from parenting to dieting; from finances to home decorating; from religion to addiction; there is nothing that Oprah doesn’t know.

Two things stand out: Phil McGraw and that birthday party.  

One of the most endearing things about Oprah had always been her lack of guile.  She may be rich, but she knows what it’s like to put things on layaway.  A throwaway line about hamburger set the cattle industry on her.  They sued.  It was unfair.  She was upset. We all rooted for her, me included.  

Someone had the bright idea to get her a life coach to get through that beef trial.  Voila! Phil McGraw, a jury consultant, with a penchant for folksy aphorisms was foisted on America.  Oprah’s imprimatur positioned him and his un-credentialed spouse and offspring into paid pitchmen for just about anything and everything.  The man does commercials for Match.Com for crissakes!

Which brings me to the birthday party.  Her 40th, which she felt compelled to televise over two, count ‘em, two days so that no tiny detail of her celebrity friends in frolic and preparation would be missed, left me speechless with disgust.  It was marked by so shallow and excessive displays of conspicuous consumption that the entire populations of some countries could have lived quite comfortably for a couple of years on the food and decorations left in the trash bins.  How grateful we peasants were to see the quality folk at their leisure.

As for Oprah’s book club, explorations of the darker sides of life seem to predominate her selections.  If a book has abuse, incest, or addiction, Oprah will gravitate towards it and make its author an overnight millionaire.  I have no doubt James Frey had that in mind while typing his manuscript.  

I also have no doubt that the first response on Larry King was Oprah’s “genuine” response. She’s so out-of-touch on the highest perch of Mount Olympus on which she’s placed herself these days that reading all the critics forced her into action.