Dr. Phil McGraw is only here because of The Oprah—before she found this loudmouthed cue ball in 1998, he was nobody. Now, thanks to four years of guesting on The Oprah’s TV show, he’s a “life strategies and relationship expert,” a best-selling author and, as of a few weeks ago, daytime television’s hottest new property as the host of his own Dr. Phil (KUTV 2, weekdays, 3 p.m.). One of his umpteen mottos: “You either get it or you don’t.”
Not only do I not get “it,” I’m fully convinced that Dr. Phil is shoveling the biggest pile of “it” since The Oprah herself. The “expert’s” advice to parents concerned about their son’s goth lifestyle? “Listen to each other” and “don’t be judgmental.” A teenager who thinks she’s ugly and needs plastic surgery? “There is no reality, only perception” and “nobody else can give you self-esteem but you.”
Well, thank you very much, Dr. F**king Obvious! Every day, baldy tackles “tough” problems with answers from a Tony Robbins flipbook and a Magic Eightball, and now this hayseed pinhead is shouting all the way to the bank! What is wrong with you people?
McGraw’s kind of “tell-it-like-it-is” attitude certainly hasn’t made me rich—in fact, my co-workers think I need to be deprogrammed. Last week, in a scene right out of The A-Team, they drugged me and stuck me on plane bound for Hollywood. When I awoke, I was on the set of … Dr. Phil.
[Theme music, applause]
Dr. Phil: Let’s do this! [Applause] Today, we’re going to try and help someone who, according to those who love him, is quite the negative Nelly who drinks too much and sucks the joy out of dang near everything—say hello to Bill!
Me: Where the hell am I? Oh, it’s the Larry Sanders Show. Is that you, Hank Kingsley? Hey now!
Dr. Phil: Son, you’re like a huntin’ dog without a scent [applause]. You’ve got to draw a line in the sand and say, “The sun’s gonna come out tomorrow, Petunia.” You hear what I’m saying? [Applause]
Me: Huh? Do people actually pay you to dispense this crap? When you’re not spouting redneck platitudes, you’re doling out the most idiot-simplistic advice this side of a special-ed fortune cookie. When these mouth-breathers finally figure out what a pantload you really are, you’ll be cleaning the grease traps at Carl’s Jr. with Ananda Lewis!
Dr. Phil: Boy, you’re like a cartoon character without an outline [applause]. As I say in my book—available at a fine retailer near you; makes a great gift—you have to name it before you claim it [applause]. We’ve asked one of your co-workers to join us here today to see if we can straighten this noodle out—everybody say howdy to Ally!
Ally MacKay: [Taking seat, confused] Um, yeah, I don’t work with this guy—I’m at Fox 13, a real news organization, OK? I’m on TV, girlfriend [snaps fingers in crisscross motion]. Sure, I’ve met Bill a few times, but he’s usually drunk and annoying me about the “carpet” and the “drapes,” whatever that means. Yeah, good times—not! [Storms off stage]
Me: Oh, no, you did-unt! Better check yourself before you wreck yourself, blondie! That’s what I’m sayin’! [Mix of boos and applause]
Dr. Phil: Gosh a-mighty, it’s like a Tulsa henhouse full of buckshot on fire in here [applause]. I haven’t even gotten anybody to cry yet! Partner, it’s time to get real …
Me: [Whacking Dr. Phil’s gleaming noggin with a folding chair, Smackdown-style] And I say it’s time for you to get f**ked! Instead of telling some whale she’s fat because she eats too much, tell her to get f**cked! Don’t tell a couple they should talk about their feelings—tell ’em to get f**cked! America doesn’t need your bonehead advice; they need to all get f**cked! [Wild applause]
The Oprah: [Watching from her throne backstage] Honey-child, I got an idea for a new show …
Epilogue: Watch for the new Dr. Bill: Get F**cked daytime talk show, coming to syndication in 2003.