YOU get to worship me! YOU get to worship me! YOU get to...

.....Oprah Winfrey-King (although "King-Winfrey" probably sounds better to her, but she can't be having her name last, can she?) managed to out-Oprah herself on the opening show of her final season, giving her entire audience three weeks of airsickness and jet-lag... I mean, a trip to Australia! Guess it's easy to be magnanimous when every penny is paid by corporate sponsors, of which she has more than John McCain. (Which explains why her 'house' can hold all his mansions and still have room for an African girls' school in the rumpus room!) Personal quadrillions aside, I'm sure all of Harpo Productions' money is tied up in air-brushing O Magazine covers. Talk about job security!

.....As is the custom, the announcement was, shall we say, un-subtle, featuring John Travolta in a pilot's outfit (See? I told you they come in XXXXL!), the front of a plane rolling onto the stage, and The Big O (no, not Overstock.com) giving her traditional carnival-barker-with-Down-syndrome delivery as volume buttons were desperately pressed all over America. Even Gayle winced just a little before visions of her allowance being "forgotten" returned her to her rightful place at Oprah's feet (and, uh, elsewhere).

.....What will we do next year without this tender display of self-aggrandizement masquerading as giving a shit about others? Oh, Oprah, we'll miss you - that is until your re-runs show every day until the Apocalypse (indeed, they may cause it), you're a "special guest" on Gayle's O-financed radio show every ten minutes, or your upcoming television network blankets us forever in your comforting presence, even watching us through the little light on our DVRs 24/7 as Tyler Perry takes notes for you from his 12-closet cabana on Fire Island. Say it loud, she's God and she's proud! Hollaaaaaaa!