"The Rosie Show" debuts on OWN

As The Beatles sang so many moons ago: "I should have known better" — in this case, to have tuned into The Rosie Show (7pm, OWN) on the Oprah Winfrey Network last night. Not that I am particularly averse to Rosie O'Donnell herself, but to the inevitable outbreak of yet another godforsaken talk show. Somewhere in the laws of showbiz as elucidated by Aristotle and embellished by Milton Berle, there ought to be a definable tipping point. How many talk shows is one too many?

Let's be frank. The format itself is a tired old warhorse, an easy opportunity for publicity-seeking missiles to tout their latest book, album or movie. Pleasantries are exchanged, the host asks a list of carefully scripted questions, the plug is made, a clip is shown, then the exclusive guest saunters toward the revolving door that takes them to the next talk show where déjà vu takes place all over again.

The Rosie episode I tuned into featured the ubiquitous comedienne Wanda Sykes — whose coarseness we learned to love on Curb Your Enthusiasm — herself the veteran of a short-lived talk show stint on Fox a few years ago. Rule number one: Talk show hosts should not be allowed to talk with current (or even former) talk show hosts, especially about talk shows! Did you have fun doing your show? Oh yes, are you having fun doing yours? A better question might be: does anybody care?

In an intriguing sign of the times, Rosie and Wanda began to discuss motherhood like a couple of suburban women who bumped into each other at the supermarket. Of course, the twist is that both O'Donnell and Sykes are declared lesbians, which must have sent seismic Nielsen needles fluttering throughout the red states. More compelling was the following segment with Sykes bravely describing her bout with breast cancer. Serving as a kind of extended public service announcement, such vital information can't be discussed too frankly, nor too often.

The bigger issue, the so-called elephant in the room, is that if The Rosie Show seems like a lifeless retread of her old talk show, it is through no fault of her own, but that of her benefactor, Oprah the All-Powerful. As some have said bluntly, Lady O's minions don't want to watch her network, they want Oprah herself. Bless Rosie O' Donnell and her tough-gal, lady-stevedore shtick, and the same for Gayle King's clunky impersonation of her friend and mentor, but women want Oprah and the good news is: she's ba-ack.

Excusing in advance Ms. Winfrey's hubris in naming her new show Oprah's Lifeclass — as if she has transcended mere chatting and is now a full professor in the field of human nature and enlightenment — I found a few minutes of the class to be a study in inflated self-importance and threadbare platitudes. 

"Forgiveness is accepting that it has-happened-to-you," Professor W. said extra slowly, as if she were talking to an audience of seven-year-olds, "not accepting that it was okay for it to happen. When I got that, I think it took me to the next level of being a better person, because I don't hold grudges for anything, or any situation, and neither should you."

Well, well, Sri Oprah is just ever-evolving isn't she? Wow, I really want to "go to the next level of being a better person," and all I have to do is read Oprah's lips when she speaks super-slowly so that even non-billionaire dummies like me can understand! Makes me long for the simple days of yore, watching Tom Cruise trampolining on Oprah's couch as she giggled fawningly from her chair. All is forgiven, Oprah! Can't you just go back to chatting? You can even use Rosie's set — she won't be needing it six months from now....