Oprah Winfrey

Who’s your daddy?

Dr. Phil -- Oprah protege, talk-show host, bestselling author -- has millions devoted to his fatherly brand of tough love. But could scandal knock "America's Favorite Therapist" off his pedestal?

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Who's your daddy?

“I don’t think you should get married at this point.”

Dr. Phil is rolling out his straight-talkin’ daddy routine on his eponymous TV show for a teary young redhead who’s obsessed with losing weight before her wedding day. While the enthralled studio audience holds its breath, Dr. Phil is wide-eyed and earnest about the potential this problem has to mess with the young woman’s marriage. The camera zooms in as the woman sniffles and nods solemnly, clearly upset but already committed to doing whatever Dr. Phil thinks is best for her.

She’s not the only one. Since his show hit the air last fall, Dr. Phil McGraw has become a father figure to a country hurting for a male role model. His comforting but directive style has a hold on America — he’s second only to Oprah in ratings, and boasts a steady flow of bestselling books, the latest of which, “Ultimate Weight Solution: The 7 Keys to Weight Loss Freedom,” is a New York Times bestseller with 2.5 million copies in print.

But the very qualities that make Dr. Phil an appealing, trustworthy authority figure — his unrelenting self-confidence and poise, his aggressive tactics, his irreproachable attitude — appear to be the same traits that have created trouble for him in the past and that continue to plague him today, even as his popularity increases exponentially. In just the past month, McGraw has come under criticism for marketing nutritional supplements bearing his likeness, and was hit with a lawsuit filed last week from a guest on his show who claims his staff confined her in an apartment against her will, which led to a tragic — and bizarre — injury. Meanwhile, a new unauthorized biography, “The Making of Dr. Phil: The Straight-Talking True Story of Everyone’s Favorite Therapist” chronicles many of the foibles and missteps of McGraw’s past, from his alleged inappropriate relationship with a female therapy client to several ethically questionable business decisions. While plenty of unconventional public figures are criticized unduly for wandering off the most socially acceptable path, McGraw’s alleged slips are a little more serious than he’d have us believe, and seem to fit a pattern of controlling, arrogant behavior.

McGraw’s decision to endorse “Shape Up” nutritional supplements under a licensing agreement with CSA Nutraceuticals, for one, has taken many observers by surprise. Vitamin packs, drinks and nutritional bars that bear Dr. Phil’s likeness have been stocked by major retailers since this summer, a cross-branding move that some have criticized as opportunistic and inappropriate. Predictably, McGraw is steadfastly unapologetic on the subject. While he reports that he discussed his decision with his mentor, Oprah Winfrey (who has consistently refused to endorse products herself) he remains determined to chart his own course. He has humbly given Oprah credit, as he so often does, telling the New York Times that he’s learned “a tremendous amount” from her. But his decisions are his own. “I don’t substitute anybody else’s judgment for my own. Oprah has her plan and strategy, and I have my plan and strategy.”

Late last week, the plot thickened as a bizarre lawsuit was filed against Dr. Phil, Paramount and staffers on his show. Convicted murderer Laurie “Bambi” Bembenek alleges in the suit that she was held against her will in a Marina Del Rey apartment by “Dr. Phil” staffers while awaiting the results of a DNA test, which she hoped would prove her innocence in the 1982 murder of her husband’s ex-wife, and that were to be revealed on the show. According to the suit, Bembenek experienced a panic attack due to memories of her former incarceration, and attempted to escape through a window of the apartment by tying bed sheets together. The sheets came undone as Bembenek descended and she fell, injuring herself so badly that, eventually, her leg had to be amputated below the knee.

While the decision to tie bed sheets together and escape implies that Bembenek has all of the stability and capacity for rational thought of a Brady kid, strangely enough, she’s no stranger to harrowing getaways. In 1990, she successfully escaped from prison after serving eight years for murder. After her escape, she reached a deal with prosecutors that allowed her to plead no contest to second-degree murder.

Whether she’ll have as much luck in her current legal wranglings is less certain; representatives of “The Dr. Phil Show” insist that Bembenek was free to leave the entire time. Still, the confrontational tactics employed by Dr. Phil and his producers are plain enough to anyone who watches the show. Such methods are sure to be called into question, particularly in handling emotionally fragile guests. This suit may not go far, but if incriminating details emerge, McGraw still could find himself in a difficult spot.

By now, he’s certainly used to it. “The Making of Dr. Phil,” a biography by Sophia Dembling and Lisa Gutierrez, outlines some of the dark periods of McGraw’s history, many of which have been explored in detail elsewhere. The book has that slightly unsavory, salacious tone that’s common among unauthorized biographies, offering predictable criticisms from everyone from former business partners to former acquaintances willing to cast aspersions on McGraw’s character. Unfortunately, the episodes in McGraw’s life that have been called into question the most are reviewed but without providing much new information. While the book presents a worthy enough summary of McGraw’s experiences and missteps, for anyone who’s read two or three articles about the man before, there aren’t many new details or scoops here.

Instead, the authors work with the stories they have, layer on as many damning remarks as they can, then quote liberally from McGraw’s show or books in order to set him up as a hypocrite. When McGraw’s first wife alleges that he cheated on her and demeaned her, then froze her out emotionally, instead of letting such harsh criticism stand on its own, the authors quote McGraw stating that marriage takes “a willing spirit” and a “long-term effort,” as if every psychologist and self-help guru under the sun hasn’t been married more than once.

But as inconsequential as McGraw’s behavior at age 23 should be to any flawed human being with a checkered past, many of McGraw’s reported mistakes, like selling expensive lifetime memberships to an unfinished health club that soon went bankrupt, aren’t exactly minor blunders, and contribute to a picture of a man whose behavior appears to range from insensitive to unethical.

The most notable of the complaints outlined in the book and in investigative articles predating it come from a former therapy client of McGraw’s who claims that he carried on a controlling and sometimes sexually inappropriate relationship with her. The client was 19 years old at the time, and alleges that McGraw touched her inappropriately, insisted that she check in with him often, and kept her “totally dependent” on him. She eventually filed a complaint with the Texas State Board of Examiners of Psychologists. Although McGraw settled with the board, disciplinary actions taken by the board were quite firm, including, according to “The Making of Dr. Phil,” “a public letter of reprimand, a year of supervision by a licensed psychologist, complete physical and psychological exams, and an ethics class.” A year after the official reprimand was issued in 1988, McGraw closed his private practice and entered into the business of trial consulting, where he fortuitously consulted Oprah Winfrey when she was defending herself against libel charges from Texas cattlemen. Although McGraw downplays the incident with the 19-year-old patient, claiming that it was “investigated and dismissed” and that he was fed up with his work as a therapist anyway, the timing of his career change is impossible to ignore.

In addition, a former business partner of McGraw’s, Thelma Box, alleges that McGraw sold his stake in their self-help seminar company, Pathways, to a third party a full year before he let her know about it. Box claims that she co-created and coauthored the materials used in the Pathways seminars, traces of which are found in Dr. Phil’s approaches and strategies on his show, but that no credit or mention of her name is offered, either by McGraw or by the associates who eventually purchased her share of the company. Unlike some of the other sour-grapes critics in the book and in other pieces, Box seems a reliable character witness. She compliments McGraw and says she gained a lot from working with him, and she appears to report the facts of her history with him without going out of her way to attack him. Mostly, she’s alarmed that, despite her influence on his work, he’s never mentioned her name in his books, on his show or in interviews about his background.

Taken alone, such criticisms might ring hollow. After all, a man with McGraw’s obvious talents and charisma should hardly have to march around, reciting a list of credits. And generally, when the usual complaints about abusive or egocentric behavior are lobbed, as they have been at McGraw by former associates and employees of his show, it’s not difficult to write them off, since McGraw’s strong personality is a big part of what makes him a natural leader. The man is a polished brand in motion, a remarkable presence onstage with a likable, self-assured manner, a quick wit, a knack for giving straightforward, sure-footed advice, and an uncanny ability to address criticism before it appears.

“I don’t expect you’re going to substitute my judgment for your own,” he tells the young woman who’s just put her wedding on hold. “Y’all are gonna decide what you want to do.”

McGraw will often stop at the end of a guest’s spot, or at the end of a show, and address the audience. “We’re not doing 8-minute cures here,” he tells viewers, over and over again. All he’s offering, he insists, is “a wake-up call” or “an emotional compass.”

Still, on show after show, it’s clear that Dr. Phil eclipses the boundaries of the innocuous role he claims to fill. It seems as though he can’t stop himself from getting far more involved and magisterial than would be recommended by most licensed therapists.

On one show, a teenaged son is tricked into appearing under false pretenses, and is then confronted and threatened with a total withdrawal of support and protection from incarceration if he doesn’t enter rehab on the spot. Such interventions may be necessary for those with drug problems, but surely taking such avenues on national television should be considered cruel and unusual punishment for a teenager, who’s apt to be consumed by appearances. Indeed, the boy seems mortified by the situation and appalled that his parents have lied to him.

But drug users aren’t to be taken seriously, you see, and with every legitimate expression of anger and betrayal that comes out of the kid’s mouth, we’re reminded that “it’s the drugs talking.” The kid eventually storms backstage, where there are more cameras, of course, and in a “private” conversation, Dr. Phil insists that he decide whether to go straight to rehab, or face the consequences. The kid angrily chooses rehab, and he and his parents fly directly from the show to the facility, escorted by a bodyguard — apparently the boy doesn’t have the option to change his mind once the cameras aren’t rolling.

Whether Dr. Phil has just saved the kid’s life or shamed him in front of millions of viewers goes unchallenged — by both the audience and the kid’s family. Instead, they all stand around, wide-eyed and obedient, waiting to see what the good doctor will prescribe next.

This “Surrendered Family” phenomenon is most evident on the episodes of the show surrounding the “Dr . Phil Family,” a couple and their two daughters who have chosen to subject their lives to around-the-clock scrutiny by the show. Dr. Phil’s immersion in their lives is complete, from the use of around-the-clock video cameras to the involvement of therapists and lawyers to the family’s regular appearances on the show. They have completely yielded their lives to Dr. Phil’s tough love machine, and on each “Dr. Phil Family” episode, their problems, which range from infidelity to teenage pregnancy, are dragged out and dissected. Naturally, their ongoing struggles make for some seriously entertaining television. These episodes constitute a mini Dr. Phil-branded reality show, featuring all of the denial and outbursts and insults you’d expect from members of a wildly dysfunctional family. While the advice Dr. Phil offers is consistently sound and reasonable, and may indeed offer hope to other families in crisis, his role as the ultimate authority is hard to ignore. Alexandra, the 15-year-old daughter who has just decided to raise her child on her own, is shown talking to the baby’s father on the phone.

“Dr. Phil actually thinks it’s best that you and your family don’t visit the baby until you actually speak to him,” she tells the boy. Alexandra and her family hint that the baby’s father and his family are trashy, irresponsible people, but you can’t help but admire the class they demonstrate in refusing to throw their lives into the ravenous Dr. Phil wood chipper.

The irony, of course, is that the very behavior that allegedly led to McGraw’s receiving a public letter of reprimand is exactly what makes him “America’s Favorite Therapist” today. It’s his aggressive, confrontational approach that appeals so much to a nation that’s lost its faith in the talking cure. While traditional therapists often encourage a client to discuss their feelings in an uncensored, unlimited way, for Dr. Phil, feelings are merely a brief rest stop on the way to committing to life-altering behavioral changes. This is a macho approach to therapy, couched in the tough-love language of football coaches and wood shop instructors.

“That dog won’t hunt!” Dr. Phil blurts at guests like an impatient daddy, giving them firm instructions on how to stop messing up their lives, while disparaging softer approaches. “Trust me, I’m not going to spout a bunch of ‘guru-ized’ stuff about thoughts and emotions, or tell you to go up on a mountaintop and get in touch with your ‘inner child,’” he writes in his bestselling diet book. “You can either sit around and stew about the situation, or you can make the choice to be self-directed, take action, and adopt a solution-side approach to your life.”

Although that solution-side approach — exercise, don’t eat when you’re emotional, control your portion sizes — is far less groundbreaking than it sounds after it’s been spiked with down-home Dr. Phil flavor and marketed by the Dr. Phil juggernaut, his fans don’t seem to care. They’re anxious to have him weigh in on one more aspect of their lives that feels out of their control.

In fact, it’s difficult to imagine devoted disciples of Dr. Phil changing their minds about him for any reason at all, since the nature of his authoritative, instructive relationship with his guests, viewers and readers protects him from scrutiny. Just as taking your football coach’s advice is predicated on turning a blind eye to the fact that he’s sort of an abusive jerk, so does accepting Dr. Phil’s word as the gospel mandate that all criticisms of him are ignored, or treated with utter skepticism. Viewers can take the cue from Dr. Phil himself on this front. As he recently told the New York Times, “I guarantee you there is absolutely nothing — nothing I could do that somebody wouldn’t have a problem with. If I was on the air and was just kind of a plain-vanilla personality that took the safe road and the safe way trying to please all of the people all of the time, I’d been gone in two weeks.”

The message is clear. Part of being empowered, of “getting it,” of “telling it like it is,” of being a tough guy and a winner instead of a whiny little loser, is wrapped up in ignoring the criticisms and complaints of others. Thus, no matter how many times Dr. Phil’s ego and overbearing tactics bring him negative attention, it’s clear that his devoted viewers will continue to see him as comforting and decisive father figure in their lives. And what could be more American, really, than a macho, charismatic leader who blunders arrogantly into disastrous territory, while a nation of obedient children looks on?

Heather Havrilesky is Salon's TV critic and author of the rabbit blog. Her memoir, "Disaster Preparedness," published in 2010.

NBC comedy stars keep themselves relevant after finales

Alec Baldwin and John Krasinski shill baseball hats in viral ads, "Community" character gives Emmy picks, and more

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NBC comedy stars keep themselves relevant after finalesYankees vs. Red Sox, Baldwin vs. Krasinski, or "30 Rock" vs. "The Office": who is your favorite?

What do the stars of NBC’s Thursday night comedy lineup do during their summer vacation? Keep themselves fresh, of course. Sometimes it’s a little hard to tell if these guys can separate themselves from their characters, but who’s complaining if there’s a real Ron Swanson or Jack Donaghy walking around?

“30 Rock’s” Alec Baldwin and “The Office’s” John Krasinski have figured out what they’re doing with their off-season, and that’s punching each other in the face about baseball. No, seriously. In this series for New Era Caps, Baldwin goes head to head with Jim Halpert over their Red Sox/Yankees rivalry. So far there have been three spots, and if you play them in succession it’s kind of like watching a crossover episode between the two shows.

Meanwhile, Amy Poehler isn’t the only cast member of “Parks and Recreation” keeping herself in the spotlight. While the comedian is off giving speeches at Harvard, her costar Nick Offerman (who plays her boss and meat-lover Ron Swanson) has been wooing Oprah to come play his first ex-wife next season.  As he told the Huffington Post:

“I think Oprah would be the only, she’s the only person we can think of that might be intimidating to Megan Mullally. It would be so good.”

He then added, “I can assure you if it’s not Oprah, I will quit.”

And while that’s doubtful, Oprah should actually consider it. She did cameo on “30 Rock,” so it’s only fair.

Rounding out the news cycle is Danny Pudi, who plays Abed on “Community.” Anyone who still thinks that show isn’t being taken seriously should check out Variety right now, where “Abed” has been given a column in-character for Emmy season. He’s predicting who will win the awards based solely on his extensive knowledge of television and film (despite never having seen the shows in question), as well as his more savant-like tendencies:

I sort the last four into two groups: a) shows that have won an Emmy, so it seems like they’ll win again, and b) shows that haven’t won yet, so it seems like their turn. Sorting every winner since “I Love Lucy” in 1953:

 B A B B A B A B B AA B B AB B A A B B AA A B A A B B A B B A B AB                              A A B B A A A A B B B B B B A B B A A B

The “ABBA” pattern emerges soon and repeats often, as people’s urge to shake up a system always results in systemic shaking. I totally get it: I once missed a week of school by trying not to touch my chin 7,000 times. The stretches of non-ABBA you see are “cable scares,” like when we just kept giving Emmys to “Frasier” until “Larry Sanders” went away. Think of TV as Rain Man getting through HBO’s smoke alarm by chanting “I like the guy from Cheers.”

The whole article is amazing, and by far my favorite post-finale offering from an NBC comedy actor. Then again, I’m a little biased.

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Drew Grant is a staff writer for Salon. Follow her on Twitter at @videodrew.

Pop Torn: 10 pieces of culture we’re feeling iffy about

From "True Blood" to Mark Zuckerberg killing a goat to a purse made out of jerky, this week is all about meat

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Pop Torn: 10 pieces of culture we're feeling iffy about

Memorial Day weekend, you guys! I know that I will be happy to wear all my white clothing again, because nothing says “I’ve been to a summer barbeque” like visible condiment sauce all over my clothing.

And with this warm weather comes tons of pop culture news stories that are just to the right of funky. We’ve rounded up some of the stranger stuff that we missed this week, and leave it up to you to decide if maybe being raptured wasn’t such a bad idea.

1. People who think the Onion’s headlines are real: Oh, it happens. And now it’s a Tumblr. (Expect a book deal in the near future.)

2. Abed from “Community” shows up on “Cougar Town”:

Easter egg for the super fans and the people who love Subway.

3. OWN picks up new series, “Don’t Tell the Bride“: Groom and future wife are separated for a month before the wedding; he has to make all the decisions about planning the event. Hope she likes nachos and a boob-shaped cake.

4. Student makes Chanel bag out of beef jerky:

(Photo by Nancy Wu)

Oh what? It’s all cowhide, no matter which way you look at it. Calm down and take a bite.

5. Museum-going men are happier than their counterparts: That 2 percent of the male population must be having a blast.

6. This mommy kitten is hugging her baby kitten:

Yes, dear, it’s very, very cute. Please let me go back to bed now, I have work in the morning. Well, if it’s so great, take a video of it! I’ll watch it later.

7. “Pop-Up Video” is coming back to VH1: Though now it’s just called “tweeting during music videos.”

8. “Jersey Shore’s” Ronnie and the Situation get into a fistfight in Florence: Really, guys? Really? Italy was ready to boot you out before you even showed up, and this is how you show your good behavior?

9. Mark Zuckerberg, woodsman: The Facebook CEO will only eat food he kills himself. His private message to friends on FB just read: “I just killed a pig and a goat.” And not on FarmVille.

10. “True Blood’s” fourth season trailer:Oh great, now I have to deal with witches?

Our thoughts exactly.

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Drew Grant is a staff writer for Salon. Follow her on Twitter at @videodrew.

Conan’s Oprah fan taxonomy

O'Brien's guide to Oprah's audience rounds up familiar types, from "The Weeper" to "The Man Who Rocks and Claps"

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Conan's Oprah fan taxonomy

Last night, Conan O’Brien celebrated Oprah Winfrey’s final show by honoring “the people who made the The Oprah Show truly special” over the years: her audience members. His team compiled a jokey Oprah-fan classification, encompassing all sorts — from “The Jumping Clapper” and “The Face Fanner” to “The Extremely Alarmed Grandma” and “The Man Who Rocks and Claps.”

 

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Emma Mustich is a Salon contributor. Follow her on Twitter: @emustich.

Oprah’s warm, funny, self-aggrandizing goodbye

Winfrey ends her show with a 42-minute monologue that encapsulates her many baffling contradictions

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Oprah's warm, funny, self-aggrandizing goodbye

Oprah Winfrey’s final show summed up everything she’s been about for a quarter century. It was funny, warm, sweet and informative, and felt easygoing even though it was clearly written and rehearsed within a millimeter of its life. The episode had sharing and oversharing, confessions and anecdotes, photographs of Oprah in unfortunate clothes and hairstyles, and callbacks to shows and guests that made a big impression on the host during her journey toward self-knowledge — which, she assured us, was what her boundary-breaking, influential, astoundingly popular stint on daytime was truly about, anyway.

No, wait, scratch that. Her show wasn’t truly about Oprah at all. It was about you. All of you. But especially you, the individual sitting there watching her “every day,” as she said.

She had a message for you, the individual. Several messages, actually — and they were all intertwined: Take responsibility for your life. Be honest with yourself and others. Be responsible for the energy you put out in the world, because that energy comes back around eventually. Also: There is a God, or a life force, and you should get to know him/her/it, because he/she/it can improve your judgment and guide your life.

There was a clip reel of people admitting things on TV that they had never told close friends and family members. They said they were alcoholics or drug addicts, that they had HIV, that they had endured or inflicted spousal abuse. The confessions had a snowball effect and became collectively cathartic, Oprah said: “Little by little, we started to release the shame.”

One of the clips was of Oprah herself circa 1986, revealing that she herself had been sexually abused as a child. Another clip referenced the recent broadcast in which actor-director Tyler Perry said he’d been sexually abused as a child, then led an audience of 200 fellow sexual abuse survivors, all men, while they stood together holding pictures of themselves as kids.

Long sections of Oprah’s final syndicated broadcast, which amounted to a 42-minute monologue interspersed with video clips, suggested a church service, though precisely what kind varied from moment to moment.

Sometimes it felt like Sunday school for kids. Other times it felt like a sermon, or the opening remarks of a self-help group leader opening a meeting in a church basement.  “Don’t wait for anybody else to fix you, to save you or complete you,” she said. “‘Jerry Maguire’ was just a movie. [But] no one completes you. We have seen that with guest after guest. When you accept that you are responsible for your life, you…get….free.”

Still other times the broadcast evoked the famous sequence in “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” where Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, presumed dead, attend their own funeral service and hear themselves eulogized. But here was Oprah doing the eulogizing. In an especially unfortunate moment, she suggested that God was responsible for the meeting of her father’s sperm and her mother’s egg. That may very well be true, but if so, it’s true for every other human being as well — and when you put it in the words that Oprah chose, it can’t help but sound oddly messianic.

Oprah’s last words before exiting stage left were, “to God be the glory.”

She talked about how, deep down, she really wanted to be a teacher, and near the end of the broadcast, she introduced her very first mentor, her fourth grade teacher Mrs. Mary Alice Duncan, who was sitting there in the audience, tearing up and grinning.

She said that her guests taught her that there was “no need to feel superior to anybody” because “there is a common thread that runs through all of our pain and all of our suffering, and that is unworthiness, not feeling worthy enough to own the life that you were created for…Your being here, your being alive, makes worthiness your birthright. You alone are enough.”

She said that within each person, no matter what his or her race, creed, color or life experience, is a little voice that asks, “Do you see me? Do you hear me? Does what I say mean anything to you?” That voice, Oprah said, was what she hoped to answer, encourage and embrace over the course of 25 years and 4,561 shows.

It would have been nice if, at some point during the telecast, even a single audience member had been permitted to utter one syllable. There was no dialogue, only monologue interspersed by cheers, laughter and applause. The key to Oprah’s success, she assured us, is that she knows that deep down, everyone wants to be heard. But in this last broadcast, nobody else got a word in edgewise.

It was a final summation in a career which, judged in terms of social good and emotional healing, required no defense. Oprah is a force for good, period. She may inspire love, loathing, bafflement, amusement, irritation, you name it, but there is no possible way to evalute the sum total of her career on TV without concluding that the world is a somewhat better place because she was in it. And yet here she was making a case for herself, Oprah Winfrey for the defense, as if she wasn’t worthy of all this attention and acclaim. As if she didn’t get her own memo. It was poignant in ways she herself probably didn’t intend.

She left her stage, her classroom, her pulpit, unfinished. A work in progress.

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Celebrities flock to Oprah’s penultimate show

From Jamie Foxx to Maria Shriver, the stars turn out to celebrate and honor daytime's favorite talk show host

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Celebrities flock to Oprah's penultimate showOprah and Maria Shriver.

Oprah Winfrey’s final show airs tomorrow, and today’s second part of her “Farewell Spectacular” saw celebrities turn out in full force, a touching tribute to the woman who has been America’s best friend for 25 years.

Oddly enough, Oprah spent most of her show not trending on Twitter, though “surprise” guests like Tom Hanks, Michael Jordan, Maya Angelou, Jerry Seinfeld, Jamie Foxx, Stedman and Gayle all did. I use quotation marks because there are no surprise guests for Oprah … if Obama himself had taken the stage to wish her well, it would not have been that unexpected.

So perhaps the biggest surprise of today was a heartfelt speech by Oprah’s silent partner Stedman Graham. Looking nervous, Stedman said that he didn’t know of anyone else who could change so many people’s lives and also bring a bagged lunch to work.

Meanwhile, Dr. Maya Angelou’s contribution to the ceremony was a new poem, which she read accompanied by Alicia Keyes on the piano:

“Unplanned and unrehearsed, this big-eyed black girl from Mississippi, showed the world how to look at itself … She listened to the rich and the poor, the famous and the infamous … For 25 years she listened. … She said, ‘Be strong, be kind, and call me Oprah.’ I can. I will. And I shall. Be Oprah. I am. Oprah. Oprah. Oprah.”

Of course, not everyone took the same approach to honoring the living legend. Jerry Seinfeld used his five minutes to complain about his marriage, women in general, and how it’s Oprah’s fault that ladies mock their husbands. Then Jerry took his seat, directly next to Oprah, because they are best friends anyway.

Simon Cowell introduced a musical number where Rosie O’Donnell sang a reworked version of “Fever,” with special appearances by Dr. Phil, Nate Berkus and Dr. Oz (the last of which said Oprah’s gift to the world was teaching everyone about S-shaped poop). Usher, Kristin Chenoweth and Aretha Franklin filled out the non-ironic singing portion of the show.

The oddest moment of the episode was when Maria Shriver joined Oprah onstage with Gayle King to thank her friend for “giving me  … the most important gift of all … telling me the truth.” It was a loaded moment, though if Arnold was watching, the camera didn’t cut to him. This was Oprah’s day, after all.

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Drew Grant is a staff writer for Salon. Follow her on Twitter at @videodrew.

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