Oprah's Aussie Adventure

Who can forget Oprah’s whirlwind Tour of Duty of Australia in early December 2010, to film episodes for her final season on air (until she comes back on air). The media went stir-crazy, and celebs went to great lengths to be seen with the talkshow queen, like abseiling like a lunatic into her show and smashing their head on sound equipment. The Australian Tourism Board members followed her around, wagging their tails, wetting their lips and drooling and slobbering like bloodhounds.

Oprah visited Queensland, when it was dry and sunny, and the Red Centre, when it was hot and yuck; and her ‘Ultimate Viewers’, flown in from all around the U.S., flew to various capital cities, one of which was Tasmania. Are we trying to get tourists to come here or avoid coming here? Her shows were filmed near Sydney Opera House to the adoration of thousands, who clamoured over each other to get tickets in a bid to nab some pearl bling from one of Oprah’s eight million sponsors.

I can’t say I know much about Oprah. I know that she possesses the same amount of ignorance about international political affairs as most left wing celebrities (are there any other kind), which means supporting the status quo, thinking organisations like the United Nations are relevant, adoring Barack Obama, and hating George Bush.

And I know that she deplores racism, but often it seems that she is the only one talking about it, blaming white people for this and that, and being generally divisive, such is the wont of many black celebrities; like Tyra Banks (“white girls don’t understand anything!”), and Rev. Al Sharp (“white people are stupid!”). Racist much?

When they criticise white people it’s okay, but white people are never, ever allowed to criticise them. They’re like feminists. Feminists verbally attack men whenever they feel like it, but men are never, ever allowed to question women, or they’ll be ripped apart by idiots like Naomi Wolf.

Um, moving right along. I think I would very much like to cruise in O's shoes for a while. I watched her first Australian episode the other night and she convinced me that I need to see Australia. In her first hour on Hamilton Island, she patted a koala. And the next few hours were filled with flying in a chopper over the Great Barrier Reef, landing on the delectable sands of Whitehaven Beach for an evening BBQ cooked by Curtis Stone and seafood presented on platters by male models in their underpants, and being serenaded by the ten tenors.

In contrast, my first hour in Oprah's country was spent waiting in an immigration queue, the second hour was spent waiting for the hotel mini-van, and I got into my hotel room a good six hours after landing on U.S. soil, and then collapsed from sleep-deprivation, hunger and sheer exhaustion.