Oprah shows true colors as rich, poor worlds collide

How daft can a rich and famous person actually be? If the new season of the “Oprah” show is any indication, the well-to-do celebs are pretty darn dumb. Oprah and her best friend Gayle embarked on a road trip earlier this year to find America, or their version of it, and the results can be found during her show and in a series of articles in “O” Magazine.

One of the highlights came when Oprah tried to fill up the rented Chevrolet Impala at a gas station but couldn’t figure out
exactly how to go about it. Poor Oprah, who declared she hadn’t pumped gas since 1983, stumbled with the nozzle as if it were a python ready to slither around her neck and choke her.

Reality check.

Oprah really isn’t the down to earth, common gal she claims to be when “relating” to the regular people who attend her show. For example, one recent audience of the “Oprah” show received Burberry sweaters, which can ring in anywhere from $150 to $500 or more.

As her “helpers” were handing out the sweaters, Oprah proclaimed that she “has one in ever color!”

Do you know anyone who can afford to buy a $500 sweater in 12 different colors? Yet Oprah still “remembers where she came from, and that God blessed her with wealth and success.”

Oprah, spreading wealth is one thing, but flaunting it is quite another.

When people like Oprah flash their riches by saying “I have one in every color,” they are slapping the faces of everyone who could never afford one ultra-luxury item, much less 12.

Now Oprah may not even realize what she’s doing, and I doubt she even knows that she’s flaunting her wealth, but it just looks tacky.

I would like to think that if I were rich, I’d stay grounded and avoid becoming one of these people who thinks they have to buy 12 of this and 15 of that, in addition to a new Mercedes every year.

And I hope I’d never forget how to pump my own gas.

Why do rich people need all of these material things? Driving home each day, I pass a palatial mansion that’s just been built, and I can see through the windows as decorators are busily hanging pricey art and other objects that cost more than most people make in a lifetime.

I can’t help but think about why someone needs such a home. I suppose they consider it a status symbol of their wealth, or something.

Why can’t the super rich be satisfied with regular homes and with sweaters from J.C. Penny or the Gap?

It’s sad that our society places such a high value on pricey things, including fancy brand names and labels. And people like Oprah, who champion rich brands like Burberry and Saks Fifth Avenue, only make it worse.

I’ll admit that at one time in my life I too was smitten with brand names and the “value” I thought they held. But they mean nothing. I buy a set of clothes maybe once every year, picking up a few bargain shirts now and then when I need one.

Why does it matter if I spent $14 or $400 on a shirt? Who will know the difference unless I tell them? And unlike Oprah, I’m not gonna say one word about it.

A great Southern lady

Ann Richards
1933-2006
You will be missed


There are many adjectives used to describe Ann Richards: tough, brassy, sassy, silver-tongued.

But I think one word pretty much sums her up: classy.

It's hard for me to express my feelings about Ann Richards because I considered her a part of my family. No, I never really knew her, nor did I ever meet her. But I did grow up in Texas, where she served as governor for four years during my youth.

I always thought of Ann as a grandmother figure. Having lost both of my own grandmothers at a young age, I remember watching Ann on television and thinking what a great grandma she must be.

She was full of fire and spirit, unafraid of what people thought. I'll never forget her famous line at the 1988 Democratic National Convention, where she stuck it to George Bush Sr. with the comment: "Poor George. He can't help it. He was born with a silver foot in his mouth."

So true.

Although that statement thrust Ann into the national spotlight, it was her wit, charm and caring nature that made her famous to Texans during the mid-1990s. She championed women's rights and appointed more women to state offices in Texas than any previous governor.

She also had fun doing it.

There's a famous photograph, shown above, of Ann on a Harley Davidson with a look of unabashed, unapologetic glee on her face. That's someone who knows how to have fun, which is rare in politics these days — it's what made her so great, though.

I'll bet late at night, in the capitol corridors in Austin, you can hear those Harley pipes revving and tires screeching. In my mind, she's somewhere in Austin tonight, cruising the streets on her shiny chrome Hog.

What a lady.

MacBook discoloration issue solved

I was so excited when I got my new MacBook in August. I felt like a new father, caring for my new bundle of plastic as if it were human. But then I noticed that my child's skin was starting to get dirty, and it wouldn't clean. The wrist rests just below the keyboard and on either side of the track pad were turning a sickening light brown and dull grey.

I was horrified. At first, I thought it was the result of dirty hands, but then I researched the issue and found that Apple had sent out a batch of MacBooks with tainted plastics. So I called Apple in hopes of resolving the issue.

After spending three hours of my time Sunday, I finally got to talk to someone who knew something. He told me I was eligible for a new MacBook. At first I was a little shocked, thinking instead that I would have to send it off and wait for Apple to repair it.

I thought for a minute, then agreed. Luckily I don't have that much stuff on the hard drive yet, so it won't be a huge chore to copy the files to CD.

I know many other MacBook users out there are experiencing this same problem. I urge you to call Mac tech support right away to resolve the issue. After three hours of my time Sunday, I'm getting a brand new machine that hopefully won't discolor.

Remembering 9/11

We will never forget.

9 a.m. Sept. 11, 2001.

I turned on my television and learned the news from Dan Rather. As he reported live with the backdrop of the smoking Twin Towers, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It had to be a dream.

Rather said that two planes had hit the towers, the Pentagon, and that more could be on the way. “America is Under Attack,” according to a dark blue bar on the bottom of my tv screen.

I dropped to my knees and yelled: “Oh my God!”

Just months before, I had been at the base of the Twin Towers on a college trip to New York. A horrible feeling rushed through me, and I felt an uncontrolable urge to be with someone. Only I was home alone.

I was a sophomore at Henderson State University at the time and assistant editor at my college newspaper, so my first thought was to rush to the office and find out any information I could.

When I arrived, I saw dozens of students gathered around the televisions sets in our student center.

“What’s the latest?” I asked the crowd, not caring that I didn’t know any one of them.

I finally saw someone I knew, a girl named Ashley who sold ads for the paper, and we immediately hugged.

“I can’t believe what’s happened,” she gasped through tears.

“I know.”

That’s all I could say.

My eyes were glued to the television as the first tower fell. No one could believe the horror. Not only had the towers been struck by large airliners, now one of them had collapsed.
It seemed to get worse and worse.

Later that day, our university president announced that school would close. Students scrambled around trying to find rides home because everyone thought we were at war.

This was our Pearl Harbor — our day of reckoning. And we were scared to death that something more was about to happen.

I’ve never felt such a sense of helplessness, and I can only imagine what those at ground zero went through — seeing the destruction first-hand, smelling the charred remains of xerox paper, fax machines, cars, office supplies. And people.

There is a look that everyone who was there that day has when they talk about the aftermath. They are dazed, as if in a comatose state that’s too difficult to shake. God only knows what’s going through their minds as they relive the horrors.

I know that in my own mind, just watching the events unfold on tv and the Internet, it was too much to bear.

As the fifth anniversary of the most horrific terrorist attack in world history came and went, we can only pray that nothing like this will ever happen again. God bless those who lost their lives, their families and everyone who is dealing with the aftermath of Sept. 11.