Book Manifesto: An Open Letter to Miss Oprah Winfrey on the Occasion of Revealing Her Favorite Things

Oprah, you wanted to hear a story, so here: I'm afraid we are closing the world; it's like when you hear "another chapter." The apocalypse was lost, we did not win, and it will be again, and will begin again. I have learned it's what we do. The men with the starred calculators, and water bowls, they are guides, even on bad channels, even within the worst interviewing techniques.

All the hard roaches will be staying, however, on a wire, with the volcanoes, inverted. This is not truth: so sayeth fabulous trinkets, the retrograde refrigerators and darn defibulators with plush linings (thou hast dove's eyes,) and so forth to an entire town, or an entire audience, or even smaller. And obviously, I am not paying much attention; I am not crewing Glitter Ship.

At 4:00 pm on the air, here in the desert,(that is not actually like that at all, not at all) I am busy pushing a spoon through the last glob strains of invading tea flakes, making toast, and walking the plank finally. And looking frankly, quite late. I love that: "The late Mr. Hampton always said...blah blah blah..." It's another word for dead.

But it reminds me of an old movie pomp, something that isn't really there at all. Well, I am just waiting for all those Christmas lights, and I do see the generosity of spirit, appreciate that, and I believe I have at least a working or remedial understanding of the other dynamics involved. The brand new barn or warehouse boon to some of the smaller businesses. It was unforeseen.

And a general glow of conspiracy theory. Even the crickets couldn't be happier. Everybody believes it. That was actually a good book. (When it first aired, but the cover is missing.) The customers are grabbing for more and getting nothing but lice and hairs. They do remember, however, the cover was brownish or black.

You'll get a lot of stories like this. I can't even look at popcorn. The day it was going to be my turn to glide the very hot cooker, I just quit. Then, my friend M____ quit when he had to change the huge and high marquee. It was uncomfortable, because then, as he was leaving, the manager dropped a glass pane on his leg, straight down.

Now, most people know it's "butter flavored topping," so they don't even ask.