Grand Ole Oprah

I'm glad you apologized, you cunning, masterful Goddess of Media. However, why is it you always get it wrong? Now every time somebody writes a memoir, and apparently there is one born every minute, including Nicole Ritchie's, the already verminlike, abominable, spineless, publishing industry is going to be in mortal fear of lawsuits and is going to investigate every colon and every comma in selfrighteous self-defense, thanks to you, you idiot. If somebody writes a memoir, (like I aspire to do one of these days), it's not the publisher's responsibility to put it through a congressional investigation.
Memoirs are not documentaries and they are not news reports, but personal recollections, told through the interpretive voice of the subject, and as memory is famously unreliable, all we can trust is that the author will have enough INTEGRITY not to lie and invent stuff that didn't happen to aggrandize his sorry, needy ass.
I'm sick of everything in this country being put through the hysterical, nonsensical, legal finetoothed comb, from fucking TV commercials, to hot cups of coffee in junk food dumps, to sprained ankles on the street, and apparently, thanks to Oprah now, literary memoirs.
You know, in Berlin and Prague, the public transportation system; that is, the buses, trams and subways, are based on a HONOR system. You buy your pass and you are supposed to validate it. True, it's easy to cheat. True, you may never be caught and ride for free till you kick the bucket. True, there may be ex-SS who may demand to see your pass or else. But people abide by and trust THE HONOR SYSTEM in the freaking subway!!!!
I don't believe we can expect that from this culture of attention-starved hucksters, snakeoil salesmen and greedy bastards, who apparently prefer to have a fact checking thought police instead.
Click on the title for a fun Oprah treat.