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Ask me how much I love cigarettes and I could go on for hours...especially now that I don't smoke and talking takes the place of my depleted tar levels. So, I'll confess my vice: I love Dr. Phil. Sure, the opening to his show reveals him as kind of an egotistical warrior psych-jock, on the move to heal people, the go-to superhero when your teenage babygirl is flying to the Middle East to meet a man from MySpace. Dr. Phil is obsessed with T.D. Jakes now, so much so that I'm waiting for them to kiss. The cheese, hype, sometimes fast-food answers to complicated problems, and repetitive phrases ("Someone in this family needs to step up and be a hero..." and "What were you thinking?") cannot be denied. Sometimes, I get bored and turn off the TV. But today, I cried as he gave a victim a little can of whoop-ass, along with a little love. To the many blogs that bitch about him, I say he's doing more good than harm. (Of course, like everyone, he could be hiring $5,500 prostitutes). How many can say that?
1 comment:
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