#Innergangsteroprah

Barbara Walters interviewed Oprah. I tweeted about it, pretending to interpret O's words.



"barbara, if you ask me a fucked up question, i will have the ghost of madame cj walker come burn your scalp." #innergangsteroprah

"ben franklin wants me to replace him on the hundred dollar bill. but i told him my money was too long for that." #innergangsteroprah

"nigga, the mayans couldn't predict me." #innergangsteroprah

"barack obama sold me fort knox. and i got a tax credit for it." #innergangsteroprah

"when i'm done, white people will be asking for 40 acres and a mule." #innergangsteroprah

"i didn't have children because you mere mortals don't deserve to set eyes upon my seed." #innergangsteroprah

"i could impregnate gayle if i wanted to--and she'd have a white baby." #innergangsteroprah

"when i say thyroid, i mean pork chop." #innergangsteroprah

"dr. phil is an octoroon." #innergangsteroprah

"on the low, the theme song i sang--"run on"--is a negro spiritual [subtly giving my people instructions on how to find their way to freedom]." #innergangsteroprah

"frederick douglass is secretly in charge of my book club." #innergangsteroprah

after the last tweet, i should say a few hail marys. i'm not catholic.

"i do favorite things b/c the audience's faces look like their ancestors' during a slave revolt." #innergangsteroprah

"tyler perry is really my son." #innergangsteroprah

"i dress up as jim crow for halloween, barbara." #innergangsteroprah

"michael jackson is chillin' in my santa barbara compound making pancakes for tupac and steadman." #innergangsteroprah

"nigga, i'm recolonizing the world. one 'amaaaazing' at a time. globalize deez nuts!" #innergangsteroprah

"i'm calling the network OWN. to remind you of what you did to my people." #innergangsteroprah

Life After Harpo (Run On)

Many years ago, when I was younger, less pessimistic, and even more obnoxious, the local black newspaper decided that I, along with some other black students in the area, was respectable and scholarly enough to feature in its annual round-up of ostensibly intelligent high school seniors.  Someone called a friend and me to the guidance counselor's office and gave a us a form to complete; it featured the typical set a questions one might ask a seventeen-year-old: favorite subject(s), college choice, future aspirations, etc.  Outside of  one genuinely nice thing about a mentor, Mrs. Patterson, the answers to my questionnaire could have been surmised for what it was: a load of uninspired teenage crap, including the "Oprah Winfrey is my hero," stock answer.


Like any child of parents who worked full-time, I was often babysat by old people and television.  As such, Oprah was part of my weekday afternoon ritual.  (Yes, I'm continuing with the ritual theme--again).  I'd come home from school, plop myself in front of Nannie and Papa's television, and catch the last half-hour of The Young and the Restless while I did my homework.  Then, we'd catch Oprah at four.

Once I moved to Chicago I started watching Oprah every morning.  As a hater, it's important that I begin each day with a certain degree of disdain for the world, and I find an hour of The Oprah Winfrey Show does the job.  Yet lately, the disdain I feel while watching has been replaced by great sadness, because each morning I remember that this is the final season of The Oprah Winfrey Show.
How I will spend the nine o'clock hour next television  season is beyond me.  I'll face that day when the tears stop.  In the meantime, I'd like to present a list: twenty-five reflections inspired by way too many years of watching The Oprah Winfrey Show.

Negro Is, Negro Ain't: On Erica Jong's Version of Oprah

Last week, Erica Jong wrote the most random "book review" (or something) I have ever read in my life.  In her Huffington Post blog, Jong, apparently charged with discussing Kitty Kelley's recently published unauthorized biography of Oprah Winfrey, essentially writes about knowing both Winfrey and Kelley, and admits that she hasn't actually finished the text in question.  (Note to self: Figure out how to get a gig like Erica Jong.)  In this latest version of "I knew [insert famous person] when...," Jong had the following observation about the divine Ms. O:

Lost in Translation: A Response to 'Precious'

Oprah Winfrey and Tyler Perry said Precious was awesome and that everyone should go see it.  Since I am the most obedient of Negroes, I saw it last Friday.  If Flavor Flav is the world's greatest hype man, this duo is officially the world's greatest hype machine.   I found Precious slightly underwhelming, uninspiring, and lacking much of what makes the novel, Push by Sapphire, so powerful.  Sorry, Ms. Winfrey.  I had no "A-ha!" moment.

My reaction to and assessment of the film, however, needs context.  With relative ease, I could probably come up with a book list of black women's fiction about incest--The Bluest Eye, Corregidora, etc.  In other words, I have discussed, read, written, and thought about the issues the film presents visually perhaps more than the average moviegoer.  So I'm willing to concede that my expectation, my threshold might have been a bit higher than the people (talking loud as hell) in front of me.  Still, I think what I found troubling about the film worth mentioning.  Lee Daniels & Co. had the envelope; they just didn't push it.  (Was that too heavy handed?)