...in the Hellfire That is My Mind or The Real Reason James Frey's "Memoir" Sucked

I fucking hate Oprah Winfrey. And it's not that I'm a racist, sexist white male jealous of a black woman's success either. Why does everyone think that? No, I hate her because she is the Lucifer of Hypocrisy, the Patron Saint of Supposedly Good Books, The Mother of Dr. Phil (even more of an asshole) and The One Who Made Tom Cruise Jump Like a Monkey.

I fucking hate Tom Cruise too. But only because he knocked up Katie Holmes, who I used to have gigantic crush on circa her Joey Potter/Dawson's Creek days. Oh yeah, and because he's a scientologist and scientology is just stupid. But mainly because he's fucking Joey Potter.

But anyway, I really do dislike Oprah. There's something about her voice that enduces seizures and makes me wet my pants. She's also a smelly liar. She gave her entire audience really nice cars and said that she bought them. It turns out later that GM supplied the automobiles and the audience paid all the taxes.

And then there's her fucking Book Club. For some reason or another, all of America thinks that Oprah Winfrey is the single most important literary critic of our time. Or at least the sales say this. Any and every book title that Oprah spits out of her lying, dispicable mouth turns into a Best Seller. I don't know why people think that the woman who spawned Dr. Phil should be telling anyone what books to read. But people eat this shit up; they read everything on that fucking book club. Are their lives so empty that they just have to belong to "something", "anything"? I mean, what the fuck. Do you get a decoder ring for joining the Club, I don't get it?

And then came James Frey, the man who almost destroyed the famous Book Club. James Frey is a spoiled brat who partied too much when he was young, grew up to be a writer, and then exaggerated his life experiences in his memoir, "A Million Little Pieces". The SmokingGun.com blew up his spot like Oprah at a Roy Roger's Fixin's Bar. He was liar, his exaggerations were so huge that they were actaully just boldfaced lies.

In typical Oprah demon fashion, she first called Larry King Live to support the shamed author. She went all out too; saying that the important thing was the message and that people should ignore the discrepancies between fact and fiction. It was glorious. It seemed like Oprah was willing to go down in flames with the rest of her Stupid Book Club.

Ah, but alas, that was not the case. Shortly after that she pulled a gigantic 360 snake move and lured Frey back onto her show. She got the bearded, totally emasculated Frey on that couch and she sprung like the murderous cobra that she is. Not even Rikki-Tikki-Tavi could have saved Frey.

I, of course, went out and read the book immediately. I found the first 200 pages to be a really magnificent read. I couldn't put the book down as this guy detoxed, and shat blood and puked bile and got into fights and dreamt about smoking crack; very entertaining stuff. But the second of the book is just pure garbage, pure sentimental crap. It turns into a fucking love story and the dialogue gets so embarrassingly bad that I actually started to blush.

And then it hit me, Oprah truly does have horrible taste. At first I wanted to read Frey's book because I thought it was this rogue warrior among the straight and narrow chick books of the club; a book of lies in the club of safe #1 Best Sellers. But I eventually realized "A Million Little Pieces" was just a chick book too (albeit one with a really graphic start, but a stupid chick book nonetheless). The book that almost ruined the entire club actually belonged in the club. The beginning is the end is the beginning. Elton John, sing "The Circle of Life" right now.

It actaully made perfect sense. If I had liked the book I probably would have spontaneously combusted, or at least vanished Natalee Holloway-style.