Last Thursday's James Frey episode of "Oprah" is idling in my DVR. I am too terrified to watch it. I am scared; I don't want to see "mad" Oprah. I can't handle her being mad at anyone. I think it's because she's been mad at me. I want her to love me so bad, but I have screwed up one too many times.
I have been a heavy viewer of "The Oprah Winfrey Show" since year 2 of the series, 1987. I could - and will someday – take a sabbatical and write a detailed analysis about how I think she's evolved, how the show has changed, and how for all of the crap that's thrown around about idol worship and her deified persona, she's done so much good that people should shut their faces with their negative Oprah energy. She is so good and her show is so good.
But I've struck out three times with her. My personal karma with Oprah stinks. And I have to live with that.
Since the day I started working at CBS THIS MORNING in 1990 I tried to get an "in" with Oprah and somehow get her on our air. I badgered her publicist for a couple years and finally booked a date for O to come into the studio for a taped interview with Paula Zahn, who Oprah knew from years before. Oprah was coming in advance of the Daytime Emmys, and in preparation of that event I was simultaneously producing a weeklong series featuring the big talk show hosts of the day – Geraldo, Joan Rivers, Sally Jessy – of which I wanted Oprah to be a part. This would be in addition to her interview with Paula that she'd agreed to. The publicist declined. Looking back I don't blame her.