Couching Desire: Oprah Winfrey ‘In Love’ With Barack Obama
“OPRAH Winfrey has fallen in love with married presidential hopeful Barack Obama.”
No small headline from the National Enquirer. Readers learn that Winfrey is “gaga” over Obama. She is “smitten”. She’s “behaving like a high schooler with a crush”.
“She’s energized again and glows at the mention of him – she’s acting like a love struck girl,” says an insider.
And into the anodyne world of US politics, where sex is less a thing to enjoy than explain and define, the country’s biggest TV star makes for the rising political tyro.
What a force they could be, he with his politics, she with her show. If they could work in a book club and a range of salad dressings what force could stop them?
And then we read of Michelle. She is Obama’s wife. Oprah has had her on her show. Michelle appeared with her husband, the two women with the man they both admire.
Says one voice: “She practically drooled while interviewing him, then plastered on a ‘fake’ smile when his wife came out.”
The Enquirer has a picture of this wife. She looks tall. She looks slim. But has she appeared in The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air? Does she share a couch with Dr Phil? Has she hosted the 2004 Nobel Peace Prize Concert with Tom Cruise, featuring musical performances by Cyndi Lauper and Tony Bennett?
“Tell us about your TV career, Michelle?”; “What about your nomination for an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress, Michelle?”; “Do you have your own magazine, Michelle?”
And Michelle just looks. And she looks thin.
A source notes: “Oprah has made a point of including her in their public meetings, but she has shown a few signs that she’d much rather not have Michelle around.”
Purple Heart
But this is Oprah. And Oprah knows pain. As the Enquirer tells us, one of her golden retriever puppies, Gracie is no longer of this world.
“I hugged them all goodbye, leaving lipstick on Gracie’s furry white forehead, where she loved getting kisses,” says Oprah in her magazine.
Gracie found a small ball. It went in her mouth…
“I ran out of the house and found the dog walker and a security guard pumping her chest.” She was gone. “I stood there dazed, stunned, crying – and watched as they placed her in the back of a golf cart. Her still-warm body with the lipstick stain on her fur.”
Now do you see the woman, Barack? Now do you see the heart of a women, Barack? Now do you see the puppy in the back of the golf cart with a smear of lipstick on its forehead, barrack.”
Or do you only see slim thighs? Slim hips? Slim arms? And a First Lady with raw ambition in a halter neck dress..?
Posted: 1st, August 2007 | In: Back pages Comments (7) | TrackBack | Permalink
