Dear Oprah, Dear Squash, Please Make Me Rich

Dear Oprah,

I’m writing you today so you can make me rich.

By endorsing my novel, Fire Always Burns Uphill, you will change my life, my dog’s life, my kids’ lives, and you’ll ease my wife’s growing trepidation over that pesky “for better or for worse” clause in our wedding vows.

You see, Oprah, I’d make a very, very good rich person.  I’d pay off the mortgages of family, friends, and random people I meet in the produce section of grocery stores.  I’d give money to the homeless, take care of baby seals, and plug the ozone hole.  And while it’s true that I’d continue to dazzle Twitter and Facebook with my wicked humor and word salads about science fiction, I’d never forget where I came from (fifth floor, Huntsville Hospital).

All it takes is a few short words from you – on your show – on national TV.  That’ll turn my novel (a romantic adventure with some great sex) from the literary equivalent of baloney-on-white into a smoked haddock entree with a Caposaldo Merlot Moscato.  Now, you may not give a hoot about me, gourmet recipes I plucked off the Internet, or my musings about Doctor Who and Star Trek, but think about it: What if you were the person trying to find some tender yellow squash?  What if I picked you as the person whose house I’d pay off?  Wouldn’t that be the bee’s knees?

You see, I’d never flaunt my wealth.  Hell, I wouldn’t even move, although I would get that broken eye on the stove fixed.  All I’d do is pay off the house, sock away enough for the kids to go to college, and offer up spare cash to the hungry, needy, and produce-challenged.

Sure, I’d still blog about what a bad show Space: 1999 was, or what a good show Firefly is.  And, yeah, I’d occasionally get all misty-eyed about Dungeons & Dragons, but those are incidentals.  You see, I’m an INFP stuck in a career crawling with ENTJs.  Do you know what INFPs do for a living?  They become cloistered monks or nineteenth century poets.  Do you know what happens to INFPs who shun their true nature and go into aerospace engineering like I did?  They come home with black eyes and “kick me” signs taped to their back (well, not really, but it feels like it).

So, Oprah, I urge you: Endorse my book, make me rich.  Let me have the free time to buy summer squash (see picture above) and have you over for some good ol’ ’Southern vittles.  Help me avoid the cyber-wedgies I get every day from working with people who’d rather upgrade their Windows software than have a conversation with me.  Oprah, I’m beggin’ ya.

Peace and hair grease,



Copyright © 2012 Alan Keith Parker, All Rights Reserved.  Inspired by a blogging prompt from the’s @Freshly_Pressed Twitter feed.

7 thoughts on “Dear Oprah, Dear Squash, Please Make Me Rich

  1. “…word salads about science fiction.”

    When I read your blog entries, I am often returned to the innocent Salad Days of my Youth … causing me to also create “Word Salad Moments” in my imagination … ahhh, salad, so verdant and fresh and green, as is your prose … But face it, Dear Keith – Oprah would NEVER consider your prose! It’s simply TOO GOOD for her!! Even the temptation of your “good ol’ ’Southern vittles” made from fresh summer squash shall not save thee from coming home with black eyes and “kick me” signs taped to your back! Alas, despite thy prose truly being a smoked haddock entree with a Caposaldo Merlot Moscato, poor shalt thou remain…SIGH! So it is with the Good…

    1. That is an absolutely priceless reply! You need to weave that into your own material!

      I posted this after I saw a challenge to write a entry to the person you’d most want to read your blog. She was the only celebrity I could think of, so I went with my gut instinct.

      I’ll return to more nerd-like ways in another day or so!
      As always, thanks for reading!

  2. David Appenzellar

    I only wish I had some remote friend of a friend’s second cousin that knew Oprah and could make your wish come true. And though you prefer science fiction you have to stand in history with dear Virginia and never give up on the all so real human trait to believe. Just as in the Powerball on Wed night, I have heard of the owner’s of two tickets finding themselves still capable of believing. Yes millions paid their two dollar chances to believe but by believing they could win they took that chance. On on the outside chance I ever have to meet Oprah I do believe I will not only introduce myself but a great guy I should remember from high school but have gotten to know him more through the old fashion way of the written word. And it reminds me how my mom and dad met was from being penpals and getting married after only meeting once before. Because the words we write can have so much meaning. Some with schools giving out Ipads and laptops it may take science fiction to keep us in the real world.

    (Note the offer of having a mortgage paid off was not the deciding factor but may have contributed to the reasoning of this post. And if I haven’t before; let me be the first to reintroduce myself good friend. I was born David Leroy Appenzellar but friends call me David. Graduated with the Class of ’83 from Huntsville High.)

    1. I too wish you had a remote friend of a friend’s second cousin who knows Oprah. But alas, I’m tilting at windmills, which I always thought would be a fun thing to do (mindless, and maybe a little dangerous, but so is writing and playing the lottery).

      If several hundred million do come my way, via Oprah, Warren Buffett, Bill Gates, or Steve Jobs’ estate, I will be sure to fulfill my mortgage promise to the best of my ability.

      And yes, I’m pretty sure I know you, David, being quasi-classmates and all … I actually should’ve been in your class, age-wise, but my parents figured I’d be “bored” if I were among my peers. Never have really been able to figure out their reasoning on that one, but as Vonnegut says, “So it goes.”

      1. David Appenzellar

        Ah I should have been in your class. I was born in 1964 and started school in Jacksonville, FL. Old enough to remember seeing the rockets blasting off in the distance and then years later saw the space shuttle flying piggyback over my house in Blossomwood. First grade in Jacksonville was a joke and we were really doing kindergarten work. Midyear my dad got stationed in Pensacola, FL and first grade was what it should be. At the end of the year the teacher was nice and gave my mom the choice of whether to advance me to second grade or hold me back. I am glad that she chose to hold me back which gave me the time I needed to catch up and in some ways be ahead.
        The only time I really was angry with the system was in middle school. They had just started the gifted program and it seemed like all my smart friends weretested

      2. David Appenzellar

        Ok..a smartphone must not like TMI and complaints about the Huntsville City Schools. So I will let the reply be the short version. Keep up the writing as it is always entertaining and thought provoking.

      3. It’s just fun to have people to share all these thoughts with. Pre-blogging days I’d find myself writing little anecdotes in a journal, without any real purpose. Now I can actually share some of this with all of you, and the fact that you’re actually reading it means the world to me!

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