I neared the Jay Pritzker Pavilion in Chicago to thunderous cheers and applause as if a lion just mauled a Christian in the Coliseum. I rounded the corner and saw signs that read “Oprah, I’m the next Michael Phelps”, “Oprah is Osome”, and “We Love You Oprah”. When she walked on stage suburban married couples screamed like teen-age girls watching the Jonas Brothers…

(My seats were in Indiana. Get out your magnifying glass, you’ll notice Michael Phelps is in the white shirt to Orca’s right)

Honestly, the whole thing was really…creepy. Her cult of personality is so great, if she wanted too, she could say, “Take off your shirts, lay face down on the ground, and sing Vixen’s “On The Edge Of a Broken Heart”…and they would!

It was something special to see all these wonderful, talented, amazing athletes who competed with pride for our country, all on the same stage, under our American flag. Tears started streaming down my face. Mostly from the horrific BO of the women in front of me who clearly haven’t showered since the fucking millennium. They had a cloud of funk so strong pigeons started dying. I had to leave before it was over, but the memories of Oprah gushing, her legions of creepy suburbanites chanting in unison, and the face melting funk of those women will stay forever…

The best part of the day was seeing my favorite thing in the city, Puppet Bike!

(Finally! A puppy gives an alligator a $1)

In the grand scheme of things, I’m more about Puppet Bike than Okra…