“Oh my God. I never knew the world’s largest alcoholic crack-addicted bum house is right here in downtown Denver!”

“No shit! But what about your baggy shirt?”

“Fuck, you’re right. First, the tits. Then, the drug addicts.”

(Cut to: Hot Asian chick in the top-2 percentile of Asian breast size putting on tight T-shirt. Then the Real World-style interview…)

“Hi, mom! Hee, hee. But seriously. This is what I’ve always wanted to do. I feel like everything I’ve ever done in my life - fucking the football team, blowing my math teachers, using that amputee’s fake leg as a titanium dildo - all of this has led up to where I am now. It’s up to me now, and Oprah’s God-playing money, to get these drug-addicted slobs back on their feet. And if they all get hit by a fucking truck after Oprah presents the check, ah, fuck it.”

(Intimate, teary-eyed shots of the rehab facility. Close-ups of little girls getting beaten then someone shouting, “Hey, I thought we destroyed that footage of the school! Get back to the drug addicts or Oprah will stomach-drop herself onto you, you incompetent intern!” Cut to: the mother of three retards…)

“What I need… is the ability to PET-scan my uterus. Because, you know, three retarded babies is enough. I’m sick of this nonsense. That lazy-ass bastard who left me - oh, wait, I mean those three lazy-ass bastards - they don’t have to deal with these half-conscious zombies who can’t tell their own milk bottles from their assholes.”

“Excuse, me, miss?”

“I’m trying to have a rant here.”

“I know, but I think I have something you might want.”

“A penis? Hell, yeah, I’ll play the lottery again. Do you have any retards in your family?”

“No, but I do have this.”

“Three hundred dollars! Oh my god, thank you, thank you! And thank you, Oprah! You really do care!”

(Cut to: blond chick with huge breasts.)

“I’m looking for a pathetic loser who can really use Oprah’s money. I gotta win this billion dollar prize. And shit, if Richard Pryor could blow all that money in Brewster’s Millions, then shit, I can blow Oprah’s.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes, young black girl?”

“I was wondering…”

“What, what is it? Do you need me to pay for your mother’s cancer care?”

“No, I just…”

“Is your dad sexually abusing you? That’s just horrible! Is he fucking you night after night, after your mommy goes to bed drunk?”

“No, but it’s…”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Your brother is selling crack and just got busted by the cops and is repeatedly getting sodomized with a billy club! And those pigs didn’t even lube up the goddamn thing?”

“Um, no. Actually, you’re standing on my Grandmother’s face.”

“Oh, this old thing? Hey, that’s great! Here’s ten bucks. Just $999,990 more to burn!”

(Cut to: bug-eyed brunette who Really Wants to Give!)

“Aw my God! Ay just reeely wahnt to geeve! Ay juss wish ay cood yooze these beeg old teets to smother some smelly ol’ bummm!”

(Cut to: the boardroom scene. Oprah walks in, Dr. Phil to her left, Gayle King to her right. Oprah speaks…)

“You all know why you’re here. And you all know why I’m not. It’s because I can only afford to film all this bullshit in advance. I have religious-fanatic celebrities to film jumping up and down on my couch, for fuck’s sake. So you all can lick my virtual you-know-what.”

(Cut to: Phil Donahue pleasuring himself off over a decapitated Oprah Winfrey doll.)

“Die! You demon woman from hell! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!”

“If you’d like to donate to the Whack Off Over a Demon Woman’s Headless Corpse Foundation, just dial 1-800-Go Fuck Yourself and Die. And remember, only you can prevent forest fires. We’ll see you next week on Oprah’s Big Power-Lusting Pretentious Prickfest.”