Shagatha’s Ire

Oprah in Trouble!

 The New York Times just wrote this article about the tarnishing of the O brand and they point out some startling facts.

– The average audience for The Oprah Winfrey Show has fallen nearly 7 percent this year, according to Nielsen Media Research.

– The circulation of O, The Oprah Magazine, has fallen by more than 10 percent, according to the Audit Bureau of Circulations, and the magazine is now seeking a new editor in chief after the announced retirement of its longtime steward, Amy Gross.

Oprah’s Big Give, an ABC philanthropic reality show, beat every program on television except American Idol in its premiere week this winter, but steadily lost nearly one-third of its audience during the rest of its eight-week run, according to Nielsen.



I just couldn’t let it go. I’d tracked down La Chaise, mommy-blogging about diaper rash and her giant stool, and Empty Shell — married! Married, damn it! Married! — and Shagatha, out in the desert gettin’ set to take Oprah down.

But where was Fox? Where was Third Elf? Where was The Autonomous Eye?

It kept nagging at me, like an itch you can never scratch no matter what advanced yoga positions you twist your tanned and well-muscled torso into, even if you’re hardly drinking at all that day, and all the time you’re crying out to the universe “Why? Why? Why?”

I decided to drop by the deserted bloggery one last time, to rake through the ashes and dust once more, to press Shelly’s panties to my tear-stained cheek one more time. I just had to find those guys!

Not Shelly, I knew where she was. She was married, damn it! Married! When she could have had a real man, a man such as I.

I went down and listened outside the door. I could hear voices inside. I knocked on the door.

It opened, and all hell broke loose.

boobs41.jpgOnce again Shagatha is in despair of the human race. A late night discussion recently alerted Shagatha to the joyless tale of Candace Leadley from Strathmore, Ontario (A distant relative or acquaintance or neighbour or something of one of Shagatha’s friends.)Candace, it seems was unhappy about the size of her ta-tas, but, as a single mom, couldn’t afford implants.  What to do? What to do?  Pawn the family jewels? Sell one of the children? Take an ever more drastic measure and learn to love herself and her healthy young body?

Certainly not! And why should she, asks Shagatha, when websites like this exist?  Candace was delighted to stumble across this site. What fun!  Candace just popped her real breasts on the internet, engaged in some flirty chitchat, posted some live action video of herself and her pathetically normal mammaries and men from all over the world sent in money so she could buy herself some unreal breasts.

Shagatha is given to understand that this website very kindly holds an account for silicone-deprived women and once there’s enough in the kitty, the money is transferred to whichever surgeon will be performing the operation. Lucky Candace is the first Canadian woman to hustle her A sufficiently to rack up the $9 K required to buy her a couple of 36C Ts.

Men have the privilege of getting to know their favorite gal in a more intimate manner and the knowledge that they are helping a poor young thing achieve her goals.

Is Shagatha the only one whose heart’s cockles are not warmed by this?

julia_child1.jpg Posted by Shagatha’s Personal Assistant

Recently, two of Shagatha’s favourite bloggers, Jo Stockton and the inimitable Aggie, posted rave reviews about the book, My Life in France by Julia Child.  Shagatha loves France and food and especially French food and was quite excited to read this memoir about someone’s life in France and someone who was quite the French food foodie.

Aggie and Jo loved this book, so naturally, Shagatha was utterly prepared to love it as well. Unfortunately, she did not. Shagatha would very much like to understand what Jo and Aggie found so lovable and inspiring about Ms. Child. Shagatha found the book quite repulsive. Shagatha noticed very little about France or the French people in this book, so the title is a bit misleading.  This book is about Julia Child and her single-minded obsession with bringing her version of French food to America.

Shagatha supposes this, in itself could be viewed as inspiring – how Ms Child overcomes so many obstacles in pursuit of her vision, including friends, partners, family, publishers, etc… All of these people seem to only exist in Julia Child’s life/memoirs insofar as they help or hinder her progress.  One gets no feeling of her love or affection for any of them. She leaves her dying father to be cared for by her siblings because she’s just too busy testing recipes for her next book and feels only “relief” when he finally dies.

Ms Child also seems to pack her husband off to a nursing home as soon as he becomes infirm because she’s busy with TV appearances to look after him? This is not really explained. Shagatha wonders whatever became of poor Paul, who just slithers around the periphery of the book like a one-dimensional shadow to Julia’s overwhelming light until he is of no more use and then just vanishes from the memoir.

Shagatha found a disquieting parallel between Ms Child’s greedy devouring of people and pretty much every other living creature she encounters. Shagatha has a fairly sophisticated palate, but eating larks is quite beyond her, as is the thought of enjoying rabbit that has been marinating in its own blood for 24 hours. Ms Child’s detailed descriptions of ducks being put through a duck press or critters sliced up whilst still alive were quite revolting, particularly in light of Ms Child’s voracious anticipation of seeing them on her plate.

Yes, Julia Child is an American icon. Yes, she accomplished a great deal. Overall, though, Shagatha is perplexed about the love and inspiration apparently generated by this book.  Is Shagatha missing or not understanding something vital? She would welcome Aggie and/or Jo’s perception and/or the views of anyone else who has read this book.


Posted by Shagatha’s Personal Assistant

It has been brought to Shagatha’s attention that a person with irregularity issues has been blackening Shagatha’s good name.  The terms, “hussy” and “trollope” were used.

Shagatha finds this prejucial and unnecessarily hurtful since this Aggie person has never met Shagatha and knows virtually nothing about her. For her own part, Shagatha has, until now considered Aggie a sister in the shagosphere – one with whom she might perhaps one day share an evening of shagalicious note-comparison over a fine bottle of some very old wine and a variety of nice cheeses. 

Furthermore, Shagatha has no desire to “riff” anyone’s “gig”.  Shagatha has a very full plate of gigs of her own.  On further consideration, however, Shagatha does admit the striking similarity of name and friends could be a bit unsettling.  Rest assured that, while Shagatha’s group of friends may be somewhat peculiar, they are really quite a sweet and playful bunch. (Please note: that admitting this in a public forum has made Shagatha quite ill).

Finally, Shagatha would like to recall the words of Charles Caleb Colton, when he said, ” Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”


Posted by Shagatha’s Personal Assistant

I risk Shagatha’s ire in doing this, but I want the public to understand the real Shagatha – to know her and love her the way I do. You see, deep, deep,deep down beneath the harsh, woman of iron, Shagatha is a scared,vulnerable child.

Shagatha was born into abject poverty, the 13th child of alcoholic parents who earned a living as thieves and professional shaggers. Tawny and Lance may not even have been her biological parents, but she grew up in their tiny, fetid shack surrounded by a gaggle of unkempt and unruly “family” members and a never-ending procession of horny strangers. Her siblings quickly went into the family business of thieving, drinking and shagging for money. Shagatha always felt she was destined for better things and ran away on her 12th birthday – the day she was expected to start contributing to the family coffers.

How this painfully small, thin child, with no formal education, survived on the streets is something that may remain locked in Shagatha’s mind forever. All I know is that at 17 she married one of the nation’s wealthiest restauranteurs. He was 82 and alas, died after only 8 years, leaving Shagatha very well off indeed. She never married again. The public saw her as a gold-digger who helped old Ted to the grave. But, one evening when Shagatha and I were relaxing in front of the fire, sipping some wine, she confessed to me that Ted had been the sweetest, kindest person she had ever known and that she had loved him with all her heart and had been completely shattered when he had died. If you could have seen her face…. It made me weep.

Since her widowhood, as we all know, Shagatha has shagged her way around the world both figuratively and literally, amassed untold wealth and become the hard woman we all love to hate. To me, though, she will always be my Shaggie – though of course, I’d never dare call her that to her face.

bus.jpgShagatha is very unhappy with OC Transpo.  Shagatha herself, of course never rides public transit because she is the owner of several large vehicles that conveniently convey her around and about Ottawa’s highways and beyond.  Shagatha, however, also has a benevolent social conscience, as befits her station in life. She is therefore, publicly asking OC Transpo what on earth they are thinking about?The City of Ottawa is one of Canada’s largest, but unlike Canada’s other large cities, Ottawa has a sad little transit system more suited to a small rural town.  It’s scheduling and routing is too inconvenient for most commuters to use regularly and it’s horribly overpriced. And now, of course they are raising the fares.

Shagatha believes that a city’s transit system is its lifeblood. It must be fed, not drained. It moves people around the city and environs.  It saves traffic snarls within the city which Shagatha despises as it impedes her smooth passage to places where her presence is both vital and highly desired.  She suggests that public transit not be regarded as a money-making venture, but rather as a wise investment in a city’s future. Raising fares and cutting service is foolish. Maintaining fares, increasing the number of vehicles, the number of routes, re-visiting the schedules; investing in a smart card system instead of those silly paper transfers and monthly passes – these would be clever.

It is unfortunate that much as he’d like to, Mayor Larry O’Brien doesn’t travel in Shagatha’s social circle, or you can be sure he would be getting quite an earful from Shagatha at the next local function.

Monthly Transit Pass Comparisons

Montreal = $65

Vancouver = $73

Edmonton =  $59

Winnipeg = $71.25

Ottawa = $73 –  $81 by July (6th increase in 4 years)