Sunday, January 28, 2007

"Oprah" People's Money

I’m getting tired of hearing all of the people complaining that Oprah built a school in South Africa instead of in the United States. To me, everybody should be able to decide what they want to do with their own money. It’s real simple. The first person in your pocket every week is Uncle Sam. After he’s finished picking your pocket, the little you do get to take home should be yours to decide how to use. If you have enough money to spend it on something humanitarian . . . that’s great! If you spend it here in the States or somewhere else it shouldn’t matter. Look at Tiger Woods. He built a school in Florida. Oprah built a school in South Africa. Both are good. Big deal that one is in the U.S. and one is in Florida. Both are going to going to give some really deserving kids a great education.

All of the people criticizing Oprah remind me of the kids on the playground. Everyone will be out on the playground in the dead heat of summer. One bright kid will get the original idea to go home get some ice cream and bring it back to the playground to enjoy it there. Now, all of the other kids want to know why that kid has ice cream and they don’t. Where did the ice cream come from? Where can they get some? If they can’t get some, why can’t the kid who has some ice cream share it. It’s real simple. The first kid had the initiative to get the ice cream. None of the others had the idea or took the initiative. So, it’s too bad for them. The kid who has the vision, drive, and effort to think of, search for, and obtain the ice cream should be able to eat the ice cream . . . period . . . end of story. Oprah is the kid with the ice cream. All of her critics are people who don’t have any ice cream, didn’t have the idea or initiative to think of how to get the ice cream . . . but want to eat the ice cream anyway. When they earn 40 million dollars they can decide where and how they want to spend it. In the meantime, Oprah should spend her 40 million the way she wants.

Brilliance or Bullshit . . . you decide