By Ohashi Jozu (Special to The Brutal Times) CHICAGO- It came as no surprise this week when talk show maven Oprah Winfrey casually bucked the trend and endorsed US presidential hopeful Barack Obama. Oprah has made no secret of her admiration for the young US senator, who lives next door to her in Chicago.
Indeed, the two have oft swapped lawnmowers and combined efforts to prod fellow neighbors to recycle and compost leftovers.
What floored this reporter was the size, and girth – of Oprah’s massive breasts.
Before boarding the Japan Airlines flight for America my colleague at The Brutal Times, Mr Barry Hussein, who has often traveled to the United States on business, showed me a bulging dossier he said contained valuable information on Ms Winfrey’s boobies.
I hadn’t time to eat a snack and look at the photographs before I left the Tokyo International Airport, but by the time I had gotten settled into my comfy chair with my legs up and myself all tucked in under a warm JAL binky, I was ready to get to work.
After first accepting the offer of a cold Kirin Japanese beer from the smiling flight attendant, I cracked the thick wax seal on Barry’s immaculate manila envelope.
I nearly did what Americans call a “spit-take”!
Photograph after greasy-fingerprinted glossy photograph graphically illustrated what I had up ’til now only heard by way of mouth: Ms Winfrey was stacked.
Growing up in Japan I had never had the chance to see such a glorious rack.
I stopped the flight attendant on her way around the cabin and ordered another cold delicious Kirin. Then I carefully re-examined each of the 600 photographs.
“Hey, buddy,” a fat American man with long hair in his face suddenly called out to me from the seat to my left, breaking my harmony. How had the airline company let such a person onto the airplane, I wondered.
“Hey buddy, how much for one a them?”he called out to me again, and grinned at me like a giant Jack O’ Lantern as seen at Halloween time.
“I am sorry about it, but these are not my photographs,” I told this barging man.
I hoped an air marshal would arrive soon to taze this ‘bro.
Chicago’s crisp winter air sliced my delicate face as I exited an unclean taxi driven by a swarthy foreign man and made my way into the lobby of Chi-town’s premier eatery, Ssh…Kebab.
Many members of the intelligentsia, and a few children singing American Christmas carols, had gathered around Ms Winfrey as she readied herself to be peppered with questions regarding her Obama endorsement.
When the show began I was baffled by my American colleagues’ politeness; not one media representative dared ask Ms Winfrey a question about her gazongas.
Everyone seemed distracted by the Obama story.
Elbowing my way to the front of the scrum, I signaled the moderator, CBS anchor Leslie Stahl, that I was next.
Winfrey immediately warmed when she saw I was whirling my arms above my head to and fro. “You seem excited,” she said with a friendly laugh.
“Don’t taze me ‘bro!” I replied, tacking on a friendly laugh of my own.
This brought even more friendly laughs from around the house.
Pretty soon it felt more like a weenie roast than an uptight press conference.
The time was ripe.
“Ms Winfrey- Oprah, Opie,” I began. “Your juddflapps…your hotcross buns… your Georgia peaches – so big, ok?”
“Okay!” Ms Winfrey nearly exploded in laughter and good cheer.
I myself almost soiled my trousers with happiness and uproarious guffawing.
Although the trip had been long to get there, I truly felt it was a real moment of international understanding between our two countries.