01 June 2003 ~ Oprah sucks my cock...

Once upon a time, several years ago, a friend of mine recommended a book to me. Actually, he recommended three or four books. We were pretty close for awhile, and I trusted his judgments, so I read them all. All, that is, except one.

This one book was being marketed by Oprah's book club. Somehow, I just have a problem with it. It's like the New York Times bestseller list, you know? How much more popular can you get than if the New York Times and Oprah like you?

The thing is, I'm not against fame and fortune or anything - it's not exactly that... It's just that... well, the last time I read the NY Times bestseller list, it was a bunch of absolute shit. I mean, most of it was, "how to be successful," or "true-life stories" about things like overcoming alcoholism. Popular books are a fucking feel-good festival. I don't read books to feel good.

I don't actually know anything about Oprah's book club. I know that every time I watch Oprah, I feel like slapping her. Well, there was that one show I liked a few years back, about the little girl with two heads... But we REALLY don't need to get into that... Oprah's just too fucking PLEASED with everything. She's either ultra-pleased, or she's freaking out over some injustice or something. Boy, I wish *I* had millions of dollars for being publically judgmental, and for consistently losing lots of weight for the covers of magazines... *I* have never been paid anything for being judgmental and not weighing that much to begin with... Gr. Oprah can suck my cock.

Right. So anyway, the whole concept of Oprah Winfrey having a book club just pisses me off.

I refused to read this book my friend had recommended.

I read the other ones. One was cute and funny. One was long -- very, very, VERY long -- and maybe not exactly my thing, but I still saw some merit in it. I wouldn't read this one. I mean, for fuck's sake, it SAYS "Oprah's Book Club" right on the dust jacket!

A week or two ago, I was given a free copy of this book. The Oprah book, which has now been THRICE recommended to me.

I started reading it last night. I finished most of my reading for school, and I needed something to put me to sleep. It was between the Oprah book, and "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" by James Joyce. I've made about fourteen attempts at reading anything by James Joyce, and I've never made it past the second page without feeling like I wanted to kill somebody. Regrettably, it would not be possible to kill James Joyce.

So I started reading this book...

...and I like it. A lot.

...and I'm feeling sort of ashamed of myself.

I'm already forty pages into it.

So, anyway, the only purpose of this entry is to shout, chaotically, and unreasonably, and somewhat giddily: "fuck Oprah!"

~Helena*