Friday, May 07, 2004
Oprah and Martian Children
The Smoking Gun, through the marvelous Freedom of Information Act, recently received a load of complaint letters filed to the FCC about an episode of Oprah that ran for the second time in March. I didn't see the actual episode, so unfortunately I cannot attest to its vulgarity, though from what I gather many people who wrote to complain were upset by the discussion and definition of terms like "tossed salad." I don't need to describe what it is; the letters are disturbingly eager to do that for me.
I admire Oprah for being the only talk show host who can successfully navigate both highbrow culture and absolute trash--sometimes in the same week. Perhaps this is part of her formula for success; people feel they've earned an hour of guilt-free sex talk after they've struggled through The Grapes of Wrath and participated in silently (okay, watched) a discussion of the book between celebrities and the omnipresent Oprah.
It's apparent that the folks who wrote in to complain about the show had not struggled through The Grapes of Wrath and earned their trash. Their obvious anger often fails to translate into eloquent writing; letters like theirs simply aren't the way to win friends and influence people. Don't get me wrong--I'd likely not want my small child hearing explicit descriptions of sex acts, and Oprah does run at the hour of the day when many children are getting home and turning on the television, but we've already established Oprah's pendulum penchant for trash. And if these letters prove anything, it's that many people have much to learn about how to constructively share their opinions.
I mean, if you're going to write because you wish someone to impose a fine for a lewd broadcast, why would you insult the person to whom you write in graphic sexual detail?
Some of the letters take a different approach, instead reviling Oprah with aspersions so bitterly racist you can just imagine the author's blood vessels throbbing visibly in his flushed face as he hunts-and-pecks his rage out in an uncontrollable paroxysm. I rather prefer the more subtle punch packed by the writer who calls Oprah the mother of harlots, referring, of course, to the passage in Revelation 17:5 which describes the unholy queen of perdition and handmaid of the Antichrist.
Yep, sounds like Oprah.
Let's take a step back to my favorite, which is golden in its simpleminded hyperbole. Have you seen Mars Attacks? These little green buggers invade the earth and kill with ceaseless abandon, and seem unstoppable until they hear the olde tyme (vintage, if you will) music of the feeble grandmother, whereupon their heads explode inside their helmets, smearing the inside with spouting goo. I didn't honestly believe that kind of thing actually happened, but it appears it does, and with small children who hear about "tossed salads".
Note to babysitters, then--because, as we've seen, parents are already keenly aware of the danger: keep your charges away from the dirty old white women and the other non-white whoremongering idolators on television--unless you want a horrible mess to clean up, and quite a bit to explain when mom and dad get home.
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