Wednesday, December 06, 2006


I swear both of these conversations happened when I was at my usual watering hole last night:

“You're African American and a woman---do you know Oprah?”

Later on in the evening a nice lady from Kentucky said

“Do you know Oprah?” “Is she still with her boyfriend? What’s his name?”

Twice in one night---that’s a record for me. I haven’t been mistaken for or been asked about Oprah in a few years.

So as a public service to people to those few people in the world who may not know it, not all black people know one another.

Moreover, people tend to surround themselves with others who share something in common with them. Aside from our color, Oprah and I really have nothing in common.

Let’s run down the checklist:

Oprah owns her own business, I don’t.

Oprah has allegedly purchased fabulous new digs on east Lake Shore Drive; my fabulous digs are in Woodlawn.

Oprah has vast real estate holdings; I own the house I grew up in South Bend.

Oprah has been in movies, I haven’t.

Oprah is estimated to be a billionaire, unfortunately I’m not.

Oprah has a jet, I don’t.

Oprah has been to the Oscars, I haven’t

Moreover she’s been to the Vanity Fair Oscar party and Mr. Carter has yet to send an invitation my way.

So as you can see the black woman thing will only take you so far.

While I’m sure if I ever met Oprah again we’d have something to talk about, it’s not like we run in the same circles.

So to make myself perfectly clear---I don’t know Oprah or Michael Jordan for that matter. And no, I don't know how to get tickets to her show.

Now stop asking.

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