Saturday, September 24, 2005

Whatever Did We, As a Nation, Do Before Oprah?

Writers didn't feel relevant, for one.

Praise God, Oprah has come to rescue the entirety of American literature by re-instituting contemporary
authors into her galactically important book club at the behest of a petition circulated by female authors.
Quoth the
New York Slimes:

"Meg Wolitzer, a novelist who was one of the early signers of the petition, said Ms. Winfrey's
effect on authors, particularly novelists, 'was to make us feel relevant,' whether they were chosen
for the club or not."

I wish I could be more like Meg, and hang the entirety of my self-esteem upon Oprah's say-so. It would take a
lot of pressure off of actually, you know, doing stuff. I initially formed a tendril of worry of what will
happen to Meg when Oprah steps down in 2007, but then I realized that her departure from the airwaves
will cause the Earth to hurl from its orbit and crash into the sun anyway, so she's covered.

What is this national obsessing with "feeling relevant"? The best things in life are irrelevant. Consider the
little pile of dark chocolate M&M's currently sitting at my elbow--they're irrelevant, I suppose, but I feel
great love for them and their delightful, happy candy shells. I should be perfectly content to be considered
irrelevant, as long as I looked good doing it.

pick me, Oprah, pick me at: mb@blondechampagne.com

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