God Save the Queen

It is often said that Oprah Winfrey could run for president and win easily. I believe it, and not because of some deep-rooted cynicism about how the American electorate demands only a name brand and some manufactured myth of the candidates they vote for. I believe it because I have now seen--first-hand--the power of Oprah.

I've seen it and I can't unsee it. I know now that we are mere subjects of the realm, pawns in her game. I understand at last why Oprah won't run for office--Oprah would relinquish authority by becoming president.

I go to lunch at Doughboys on Third Street a lot. Usually a few times a week. The food is good, the people there are nice, and it's cheaper than Toast down the block. (Actually, in the Toast-Doughboys debate, I'm a Doughboys partisan all the way. It kicks Toast's ass up and down Third. Thanks for asking.)

Doughboys has a signature dessert, their version of the red velvet cake. It's a little individual cake and has, like, a pound of cream cheese in the icing. It's okay--not my favorite. People love it, though. In the hour that I'll sit at the counter to eat, they'll usually sell ten or so of them. So business was good. Until yesterday.

Yesterday, Oprah Winfrey went on her television show and declared that the Doughboys red velvet cake was one of the best desserts she'd ever eaten. They got the equivalent of a papal blessing. Actually, I don't think as many people would listen to the Pope.

I walked in for lunch, sat down at the counter, and watched a parade of people line up to order as many as four of the red velvet cakes at a time. A few asked about buying sheets of the stuff at a hundred and twenty-five bucks a pop. The register drawer bounced in and out like a fiddler's elbow. It didn't slow down from the moment I sat down until the moment I left.

And every single one of the people mentioned how they saw the place on Oprah. Not from a friend who saw it on Oprah. From Oprah herself. She commands, they obey. Her mandate is absolute, so we'd better hope she's not wrong too frequently.

Here's the scary part: the people ordering the cake weren't always that nice about it. They'd argue about whose cake was whose. They'd complain to the counter-people if their cake wasn't coming quickly enough. They wanted the Oprah cake NOW. Imagine, then, if Oprah directed this kind of desire for immediate gratification towards something else. Say, single-payer health care or--and I'm just spitballing here--burning down the Capitol.

Anyway, in this case, it's not that big a deal. Still, I'd recommend the burnt lemon bar over the red velvet cake any day. It's not as flashy and it doesn't have the Oprah seal of approval, but you won't feel like you ate a brick of cream cheese afterwards.

Oprah wouldn't want you to gain weight, would she?